"The lock is broken," whispered Tonie. "If now the bolt hold not, they will be in directly."
"I will run up and fetch the bag," said Blonda, and she flew upstairs and was back again, with the bag in her hand, in a moment.
Meanwhile another heavy blow had fallen, which would have split the door in two had not the long bolt held it together.
"Oh, if but our dear father were here; he would tell us what to do!" sobbed Tonie, wringing his hands in an agony of fear.
"The Heavenly Father is near us, Tonie; He heareth ever. See, the bolt holds yet, and we will cry to God to help us, so that we may not betray our trust."
Amid the noise of the rude, angry voices and the heavy blows of the axe, Blonda's clear voice sounded strangely calm and sweet.
"Great Father, Thou knowest that we are in fear, and are sore beset this night. Our other father is away, and the evil men would steal this treasure, which is not ours, but meant only for Thy poor and hungry ones. We cry to Thee for help. Show us what to do; send Thine angel to deliver us; take care of us, and likewise of this bag, for Christ's sake, Amen."
As the children rose from their knees, a great crash of glass was heard. It seemed to come from Blonda's room upstairs.
"What is that?" cried Tonie. "Surely the men have not got in through thy window?"
But the words were scarcely spoken when flying down the steep, narrow staircase came the lithe form of Freskel Valden.