A very sudden and painful thought had occurred to the lad. The morrow was the day upon which he was to shine as a wrestler! The seventh of July; the day of sports in celebration of Commodore Perry's treaty.
"I'll be fit for athletics and wrestling matches if I stay around here and lose my sleep!" murmured Nattie, ruefully. "Why, I'll be all played out, and a five-year-old boy could throw me. But what in thunder can I do? I can't leave and run the risk of the place catching fire. There's more than twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff in here, and it would be just nuts to a thief to find himself among all those silks."
It was impossible to communicate with either Grant or Mori. The streets in the warehouse district were unfrequented, and in such a violent storm even the policemen would hie themselves to a convenient shelter. Muttering maledictions upon the head of the absent watchman, Nattie closed the door and returned to his seat near the window.
Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the outside, and during one of these the lad espied a man crossing the bridge at the corner of the building. Thinking it might be some kindly person who would not disdain to carry a message, he hurried to the door leading into the street.
As he opened it he heard voices. The newcomer had paused and was looking back at the indistinct figure of a second man on the other side of the canal. In the intervals of light Nattie observed the person nearest him start back and evidently expostulate with his follower.
They were barely ten yards away, and by the aid of a brilliant flash of lightning the lad noticed something familiar in the appearance of both men. One was tall and thin, while the other had a short, stumpy form and a rolling lurch as he wavered vaguely near the end of the bridge.
"Get back, man. What do you want to come out in this wet for when you have a cozy nook in yon house? Go back, I say."
It was the attenuated individual who had spoken. He placed one hand upon his companion's arm, but the fellow staggered away and replied:
"Got—hic—my dooty ter do. Oi'm too long away as 'tis, m' boy. Dash ther—hic—rain. It ain't wetter in th' blooming ocean, knife me if 'tis."