As Bird sat on the edge of the bed sobbing with fright and the thought of what the loss of the money might mean to Billy, noise of a scuffle reached her ears from the kitchen and the locked door burst open suddenly as it had closed, pushed by a strong shoulder, but it was the face of a perspiring policeman that peered through the crack.
“Catch him, oh, do catch him!” she implored; “he’s got the money from Aunt Rose’s drawer that’s to pay for mending Billy’s leg!”
“He’s caught safe enough, my girl,—me mate has him in the kitchen and the money, too, though he did try to throw it over the yards when we grappled him. You see there’s been a slew of these daylight thieves around these parts lately, sneaking over roofs and down escapes when folks are at work. We spotted this one goin’ through the saloon on the corner and in among the skylights, and we followed but lost track, for he has another wallet lifted besides this one, and if he’d slid out a minute sooner, we’d have lost him.”
“Then holding on did some good, after all,” Bird gasped, still standing with tightly clasped hands as if she were holding the precious money in them.
“An’ did yer grab him, now? Look at that fer pluck,—it’s a wonder he didn’t smash yer entirely. Come out and take a look at him; maybe ye can tell did ye see him before.”
Bird looked, but the young man was a stranger to her. He did not appear to be more than twenty, and, as they led him away, handcuffed to an officer, he pulled his hat so low over his face that the crowd that gathered and followed as soon as the street was reached could not see his features, or if he was old or young.
Bird gave the officer her uncle’s name, and he said: “When he comes in, tell him to come round to the station-house and he’ll get his money all right. I’ve got to take it in as evidence.” The street was hardly clear again of the curious crowd when the twelve-o’clock whistle sounded and workmen appeared from all quarters, either with pails to eat their dinners in the shade of the house fronts, or on the way to their various homes.
Mrs. O’More and her husband—for he had been watching for their car—came up the street together, little Billy between them, and it was strange that they did not meet the policemen with their prisoner. Bird was watching eagerly for them, and, after hearing their news,—that the doctor said it was possible to help the lame leg, only that Billy must grow stronger before it could be done,—told them hers.
Both listened eagerly. Her uncle said, “Yer pluck does credit to the O’Mores, but did ye mind the villain’s face what it was like?”