“He thinks to find silver. He iss fooled.”
Sydney could hear the laugh in her words although they were whispered. “Stay here,” he ordered, and before she knew his intention, he had turned the key in the pantry door, and was hurrying out of the kitchen to barricade the pantry window from the outside.
But she had come to the end of obedience. She flew after him, heedless of noise, caught and held him back, saying excitedly, “Not for anything shall you go out there. Mebbe more come.”
From pure astonishment rather than obedience he paused an instant, when the light vanished from under the door, and some one ran into the dark room.
Both rushed after him, laid hold of him, and dragged him to the floor.
“Go away! He may have a gun. I’ve got him fast,” Sydney cried.
“Ant if he has a gun we will take it away,” the woman answered pluckily, still keeping her weight on the prostrate figure. “You hunt for it, Seedney.”
The man, trapped, fought fiercely for liberty. It was a silent struggle there in the dark. They knew not what moment a light, or a gun from a confederate, might be flashed upon them, yet thought not of yielding.
Neither of the out-flying hands held a gun, Sydney discovered, and between blows he tried to reach the man’s pockets, but without success; partly because the valiant German woman managed to keep her bulk well over him.
Suddenly all strength left the culprit. In an instant his body grew limp and he resisted no more. “I give up. I haven’t any gun,” came in a hoarse whisper, followed by a cough that shook the woman now calmly sitting on his back.