The boys stared in astonishment down into as much of his face as the darkness would permit them to see, and recognizing from the quality of his voice that a parley would not be acceptable, drew in their heads and proceeded to obey the order.
"Who is the old party?" cried one of the boys as they ran over the stairs.
"I don't know," returned Wingate, "I'm sure."
"Don't let us open the door then," urged another boy; "see here, Wingate," laying a detaining hand on his arm, "you are not obliged to—nobody has a right to order you to unlock your father's house. Don't do it; we'll lose all the fun of keeping Thomas out till we've had the fun of scaring him all we want to."
Master Wingate hesitated. But a vigorous rap on the dining-room door at the foot of the staircase, made him start, and a loud imperative—"Hurry up, there," caused him to redouble his speed.
"I guess we better let 'em in," he said, and slid back the bolt.
THE DESERT MIRAGE.
I SUPPOSE you all have heard of the mirage, which is a delusion of the eye, and which often deceives the poor traveller across the weary, pathless desert. Sometimes, when the caravan is about to give up, and lie down to die of weariness and thirst, they will suddenly feel their courage revived by the sight, as they suppose, of a lovely oasis, with lofty palms and silvery fountains.
Not long since I was reading an account of a whole regiment who when the Egyptians first conquered Nubia were destroyed. The poor creatures saw this mirage, and ordered their guide to take them thither. He insisted that it was only the delusive mirage, and, in their anger, they fell upon and killed him. The regiment then rushed for the supposed lake. Faint and weary they hurried over the hot sands. Oh! how those sparkling silvery waters allured them on!