Arrived once more in the widow’s back yard, Tom unshipped the barrel and went off to restore the horse to its stable. He soon returned, and having unlocked the back door and re-lighted his candle, he proceeded to get the barrel into the house and back upon its stand; a work of immense labor, rendered all the harder by the necessity of keeping silence. Tom was a man of great strength, however, and at last he had the satisfaction of seeing the barrel once more in its place without having heard a sound from the sleepers overhead. Having washed the buckets and tools, he put them back where they came from, locked the door, and for the second time that night went to bed.
It was about half-past six in the morning that Tom, happening to look out of the front window, saw Yetmore coming hurriedly up the street, like a hound following the trail of the sled. Stepping to the little window at the rear, Tom peeped out and saw the storekeeper enter the back yard, walk to the spot where the sled had stopped, and stand for a minute examining the marks in the soil. Having apparently satisfied himself, he turned about and went off down the street again.
“What’s he going to do about it, I wonder?” said Tom to himself. “Reckon I’ll just mosey down to the store and see.”
As he heard Seth coming down the stairs, he unlocked the front door and stepping outside, walked down to Yetmore’s.
“Morning,” said he, cheerfully. “It’s a bit early for customers, I suppose, but I’m in a hurry this morning and I’d like to know whether you can let me have a gallon of coal oil.”
“Sorry to say I can’t,” replied the storekeeper. “Our only barrel sprang a leak last night and every drop ran out.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed Tom, with an air of concern. “Then I suppose I’ll have to go up to the widow Appleby’s. She’s got plenty, I know.”
As he said this he looked hard at Yetmore, who in turn looked hard at him.
“Maybe,” said the storekeeper presently, “maybe you know something about that leak?”