“Mr. Bennett has a watchman all night at the shop,” said Bertrand presently. “I saw him when I came out of our house. He has a little shanty to stay in and a stove to keep him warm.”
“What’s he supposed to do?” asked Bobby, wishing that everything didn’t look so queer and spooky at night.
“Why, the grocery boy says Mr. Bennett is trying to get more insurance and he won’t have anything touched till that’s settled,” explained Bertrand, who certainly heard everything that was ever said anywhere in his vicinity. “He thinks we’ll come pawing over the ruins, the grocery boy says.”
They had reached the business section of the town now and Bobby, looking ahead, made out the dim outline of a figure coming toward them. They would meet under the next arc light, unless the boys could hide.
“Sh—there’s somebody coming!” he whispered. “We don’t want ’em to see us. Let’s cross over to the other side.”
“That’ll look funny,” objected Fred. “Just walk ahead and don’t say anything or look up; nobody will know us.”
Alas for Fred’s hope! To Bobby’s terror and despair, as he was doggedly tramping past the stranger, his coat collar turned up and his hands deep in his pockets, he felt a grasp on his shoulder.
“Robert!” said Father Blossom’s voice sternly, “what are you doing out here at this time of night?”
The boys stopped as if they had been shot, and poor Bobby turned furiously on Fred.
“I told you we ought to have crossed over,” he said angrily. “Now see what you’ve done!”