They strolled across Christopher Street, gazing curiously. Mark had never been in New York before and Chauncey was worried because he couldn’t see a better part of it, for instance, “my cousin, Mr. Morgan’s mansion on Fifth Avenue, don’t cher know.” He even offered to take Mark up there, until he chanced to glance at his clothing. Then he shivered. Truly the three were a sight; Chauncey’s shapely plebe trousers were hidden in a huge green threadbare overcoat (August)! Mark could not help laughing whenever he gazed at the youthful aristocrat.
“Never mind,” he laughed. “Cheer up, nobody’ll try to rob us, which is one comfort.”
“I wish we would get robbed,” growled Texas. “Whar’s that aire fun we came fo’?”
That began to be a pressing question. They wandered about for at least half an hour and the clocks showed two, and still nothing had happened. The city seemed to be provokingly orderly that night.
“Durnation!” exclaimed Texas. “I reckon we got to make some fun ourselves.”
When a person is really looking for excitement, it takes very little to have him imagine some. The three had just been discussing the possibility of robbery down in this “tough” quarter when suddenly Mark seized the other two by the arm.
“Look, look!” he cried.
The others turned; and straightway over the whole three of them flashed the conviction that at last their hour had come. There was a burglar!
The three started in surprise, and a moment later they slid silently into the shadow of an awning to watch with palpitating hearts.
There was only one burglar. That is, he had no confederates visible. But his own actions were desperate enough for two. In the first place he crept softly up the steps of the house, stooping and crouching as he did so. He tried the door softly, shook it; and then finding it resisted his purpose he stole down again, glancing about him nervously.