And, unobserved by the triumphant burglar, he poured out the scalding hot water from the teakettle into the tin dipper.
Mike Hogan was in the act of scaling the window-sill, over the debris of the broken glass and wood, when Andy dashed the contents of the tin dipper into his face.
There was a fearful yell as the hot water deluged his face and neck, and the scalded burglar, losing his hold on the sill, blinded and maddened by pain, lost his footing and slipped down the sloping roof with ever-increasing rapidity. He rolled over at the eaves, and fell upon his back with a violence which lamed, though it did not disable him—a thoroughly demoralized burglar.
There was a pump and a trough in the yard. Hogan jumped up and ran hastily to it. He dipped his scalded face in the stream of water, and gained temporary relief. But the pain was altogether too great to allow him to think of anything else except that. To a man in his condition, money had no charms. A relief from pain was all he could think of. Again and again he dipped his face in the cool water, and his pain was somewhat abated.
“Oh, the young villain!” he groaned. “I wish I had him here. I’d tear him limb from limb.”
“Poor fellow!” thought Andy, pitying the poor wretch, though the imminent danger had forced him to inflict suffering upon him. “I am sorry for his pain, but I couldn’t defend myself in any other way. He won’t try to get in again, I’m thinking.”
He locked the door of the room from the outside, and decided to spend the rest of the night upon the sofa in the sitting-room. First, however, he went to the room of the old ladies, to tell them that the danger was past.
CHAPTER XVI.
EXCITEMENT IN THE VILLAGE.
For the remainder of the night, Andy, as the saying is, slept with one eye open. The burglar had enough to think of, and it seemed very unlikely that he would make another attempt to enter the house. Still, Andy thought it best to watch him.