As he rose, he was astonished to see the figure of a man steal carefully along in the shadow of the breaker, and disappear around the corner by the engine-room.
Tom went down cautiously into the shadow, and stopped for a moment in the track by the loading-place to listen. He thought he heard a noise in there; something that sounded like the snapping of dry twigs.
The next moment a man came out from under that portion of the breaker, with his head turned back over his shoulder, muttering, as he advanced toward Tom,—
“There, Mike, that’s the last job o’ that kind I’ll do for all the secret orders i’ the warl’. They put it on to me because I’ve got no wife nor childer, nor ither body to cry their eyes oot, an’ I get i’ the prison for it. But I’ve had the hert o’ me touched the day, Mike, an’ I canna do the like o’ this again; it’s the las’ time, min’ ye, the las’ time I—Mike!—why, that’s no’ Mike! Don’t ye speak, lad! don’t ye whusper! don’t ye stir!”
The man stepped forward, a very giant in size, with a great beard floating on his breast, and laid his brawny hands on Tom’s shoulders with a grip that made the lad wince.
Tom did not stir; he was too much frightened for one thing, too much astonished for another. For, before the man had finished speaking, there appeared under the loading-place in the breaker a little flickering light, and the light grew into a flame, and the flame curled around the coal-black timbers, and sent up little red tongues to lick the cornice of the long, low roof. Tom was so astounded that he could not speak, even if he had dared. But this giant was standing over him, gripping his shoulders in a painful clutch, and saying to him, in a voice of emphasis and determination,—
“Do ye see me, lad? Do ye hear me? Then I say to ye, tell a single soul what ye’ve seen here the night, an’ the life o’ ye’s not worth the dust i’ the road. Whusper a single word o’ it, an’ the Molly Maguires ’ll tak’ terrible revenge o’ ye’! Noo, then, to your home! Rin! an’ gin ye turn your head or speak, ye s’all wish ye’d ’a’ been i’ the midst o’ the fire instead.”
With a vigorous push, he sent Tom from him at full speed down the track.
But the boy had not gone far before the curiosity that overtook Lot’s wife came upon him, and he turned and looked. He was just in time to see and hear the sleepy watchman open the door of the engine-room, run out, give one startled look at the flames as they went creeping up the long slant of roof, and then make the still night echo with his cry of “Fire!”