“Yes, and away he went to find the other eleven robbers; they each had a bag, you know, just like his. Well, every time one of them met one of the splendid rich men running to the minister’s house, why, the robber pulled out his big bag from under his arm, and popped it over the other man’s head, and turned him upside down, and shook him into the bottom of the bag, and then tied up the neck,—the neck of the bag, I mean,—and then put him on a big stone by the roadside, and told him to stay there until he came back for him. And then those twelve robbers just looked at each other, and said they wanted to sit down and rest.”
“I should think they’d want to,” said Ben, under his breath.
“Well, and then one of them said suddenly, ‘Come, now, let’s go to the first house belonging to those men in the bags; we’ll find bushels of gold I expect in the cellar, and”—
“And did they?” screamed Van, forgetting himself.
“Ho! ho! who’s talking now?” cried Percy, with a disagreeable little laugh.
“Hush!” said old Mr. King, holding up a warning finger at both of them.
“And so they ran softly off on the tips of their toes,” said Polly, hurrying on; “and before any one could breathe, hardly, there they were in the house of one of the perfectly splendid rich men. Now, there was a wise old cat there, living in that very house. She was all black but two green eyes—no, I guess this cat had yellow eyes, yellow with long black stripes in them that grew big when she was angry. Now, she knew everything almost, and she was as good as she was clever. Well, she just softly tripped along to her mistress’s bed, and hopped up, and whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t you be afraid, mistress dear, but lie perfectly still, and I’ll take care of those robber men, and won’t let them hurt you;’ so the mistress turned over, and went to sleep again.”
“She was a nice cat,” said Phronsie, pausing in her work of patting old Mr. King’s white hair to turn and look at Polly; “and I like her, I do,” as Polly sent a smile over to her, and then raced on.
“Well, the cat ran off on the tips of her toes, and hopped up to the kitchen shelf, and took down in her mouth a long, sharp knife; and then she flew out of the back door, I tell you, oh! so fast, and away off. And pretty soon she came up to a big bag with a man inside it, sitting on a stone by the roadside. ‘Master, dear,’ she cried, hopping up to put her mouth close to the bag, ‘is that you?’
“‘Oh, dear me, yes!’ said the poor man in the bag, in a muffled voice, ‘and I should like very much to get out.’