David, in mortal terror that whatever he did, he couldn’t keep Mr. Atkins’ money from being carried off, cast another imploring glance at the door for a possible customer. No one was in sight, Badgertown street in front of the store being free from all pedestrians, and there wasn’t a wagon to be seen. Then Mr. Atkins’ words flashed upon him, “If anythin’ extry comes up, you run into the house for Mis Atkins.”
This was certainly “somethin’ extry,” and it was quite time to run into the house and call Mrs. Atkins. He made one leap for the little door that shut off the storekeeper’s home, and the first thing he knew, he was seized violently from behind and thrown in a heap to the floor.
David could not hear the words—he only knew that the awful eyes were glaring at him, and he shut his own so that he could not see, as the young man hissed out something. At last he made out, “No, you don’t, my fine sir. I’ll attend to you before I go.” Then he was dragged off to a corner, thrown behind some bags of oats, and tied fast to a rope hanging from the neck of one. “I guess you won’t run much with one of them bags at your heels,” and the young man surveyed his work with a grin.
“Da—vid!” rang out the voice of Mrs. Atkins. “Where are you?”
The young man on his way back to the till started and pricked up his ears.
“Oh,—she’ll be killed!” David screamed. “Don’t come in!” The little door was flung wide, and Mrs. Atkins, all in a hurry as dinner was waiting, got herself into the store just in time to see a tall figure flying past and out into Badgertown street.
“My sakes!” she ejaculated. Then she gave a wild look around. “David, where be ye?”
“Here,” said David, behind the bags of oats. “Oh, Mrs. Atkins, did he take any?”
“For th’ land sakes—David Pepper!” The storekeeper’s wife knelt down by his side. When she saw the rope she was quite overcome, and she fumbled helplessly at the knots.
“Did he—did he?” implored Davie in great distress, “take any of Mr. Atkins’ money?”