<h2 id="XI">CHAPTER XI. <br/> <small>THE RAID.</small></h2>
<p>Chick was thinking at electric speed as he hesitated
for a second in the middle of the floor.</p>
<p>He was in a bad fix, and he knew it. Only, it was
not his habit to cry over spilled milk. What he
wanted to do was to hit on some method of meeting
the crisis.</p>
<p>If he could have got down to the front yard of the
house he was in, he would have done that. But there
was no time for him to unlock and open the door he
had just secured. He would be caught before he could
pass through.</p>
<p>Even if there were any possibility of his escaping
from the room in that way, the stranger, who was already
opening the other door, would see that it was
still open, for Chick certainly would not have time to
close it.</p>
<p>This may seem a great deal for Chick to think in the
instant required for a person to open a door after
pushing down the latch. But a whole lifetime has been
reviewed in a fraction of a minute, and Chick’s brain
was working like a dynamo in this moment of deadly
danger.</p>
<p>He must do something, and quickly. He did.</p>
<p>At the very moment that the door opened, he sprang
to the stove and crouched down between it and the
wall. He had noticed, from the first, that a space of
a few feet had been left there, so that the heat of the
stove would not set fire to the wall.</p>
<p>This was the one possible place of concealment in
the gaunt, bare room, and it was not much of a one,
at that. And it was hot—cruelly hot!</p>
<p>Squeezing himself into as small a space as he could,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span>
he peeped cautiously around the edge of the stove
from the deep shadow that helped to conceal him.</p>
<p>“Holy mackerel!” he muttered. “This is a bright
prospect. That man looks as if he were here for all
night!”</p>
<p>It was the gigantic fellow he had seen working at
the roller press in the room overhead. He seemed to
have no fear of anybody being present besides himself,
as he crossed the room to the table, and turned up the
gas.</p>
<p>“What’s he going to do?” thought Chick. “Just
as I supposed. He’s settling down for a long stay.
And I’m roasting at the back of this stove. Great
Scott! I feel as if I were done to a turn already. He’ll
get the smell of me cooking before long. I can smell
myself.”</p>
<p>The big man had taken up one of the plaster molds
and was trimming it off with a knife. He worked as
composedly as anybody might who was following a
perfectly legitimate trade.</p>
<p>“Whew!” burst from Chick’s lips.</p>
<p>It was only an expression of pain and discomfort,
and it was not loud; this was fortunate, for the big
man started as if he believed he heard something, but
was not quite sure.</p>
<p>He stared about the room for a moment, during
which period Chick huddled back into the heat of the
recess behind the stove and prepared himself for a
fight, but seemed satisfied that he had not heard anything
except in his fancy.</p>
<p>“All kinds of funny noises can be heard in the night
in an old house like this,” he remarked aloud, as he
resumed his work. “I’ll be glad when this night’s
work is over, all the same. I’m pretty nearly all in.”</p>
<p>“So am I,” thought Chick. “I don’t believe I can
stand this another half minute. I’m almost touching
the hot stove, and the heat is something fierce. I
hope the chief will understand that I’ve had a tough<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span>
time of it. A fellow likes to get credit for an experience
like this.”</p>
<p>His clothing began to scorch, the flesh of his face
and hands felt seared, in spite of all his efforts to protect
them, and in addition to this torture, was the sickening
effect of the poisonous fumes which were given
off at every crevice of the stove.</p>
<p>“I’m about all in,” murmured Chick, as he tried to
find a position a little farther away from the stove,
without betraying himself. “I can begin to understand
how people have felt who were burned at the
stake. Hello! Here comes that big lummox to put
on more heat.”</p>
<p>Indeed, the big man was approaching, but it was
apparent that he had no suspicion of anybody else being
in the room. He whistled softly as he came forward.</p>
<p>After tending the fire—for which Chick inwardly
cursed him—he stirred the pot of metal with a steel
rod. By this time Chick was compelled to crouch
closer to the awful stove, to keep out of view of the
big man.</p>
<p>“Good thing there is a black shadow back here,”
thought Chick. “But for that he must have seen me.”</p>
<p>The fellow went back to his table and resumed work
there. His manner was that of one who had a long
night’s work ahead of him, and Chick had difficulty in
repressing a loud groan.</p>
<p>“If the chief and the police would come!” he
prayed. “That’s about my only hope!”</p>
<p>He listened eagerly to catch the slightest sound
from the hall leading to the stairs to the cellar. If he
could have heard anything, he would have felt pretty
sure that the raiding party had arrived.</p>
<p>Suddenly he believed he could make out the shuffling
of feet in the hall. He was not sure, but he thought
the sound of feet, as well as of men whispering, came
to him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“If this big man at the table hears it, too, then there
will be a circus. I’ll take a wallop at him myself, so
long as I know I have friends to see that I get a square
deal.”</p>
<p>Chick did not want any more than an equal chance.
In fact, he was willing to give some odds. But he did
not think he was called upon to give cards and spades,
big and little casino, and everything else, to the enemy.</p>
<p>But it seemed now as if he must take a big, sporting
chance.</p>
<p>Just as he was gathering the little strength he had
left, to make a desperate attempt to overcome the giant
at the table, he was sure he had heard a noise in the
hall. There was no mistake about it now. Not only
in the hall, but upstairs!</p>
<p>The man at the table glanced upward, with a quick
start of alarm. From his throat came a low, angry
oath.</p>
<p>“The cops!” he added savagely.</p>
<p>Clutching the long knife he had been using for trimming
the plaster molds, he dashed to the door by which
he had entered and hurled himself out of the room.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad they’ve come!” gasped Chick. “It
may be too late to do me any good, but they’ll get even
for me if I have to pass it up. By Grimshaw, I believe
I’m dying!”</p>
<p>Things were reeling around him, and it was only by
coming in contact for an instant with a corner of the
hot stove that he was saved from swooning. He did
not realize it at the time, but doubtless that was the
way the sudden sting acted.</p>
<p>Crawling out from behind the furnace, he staggered
to the door. He wanted to be in the mix-up, if only he
could contrive to keep on his feet.</p>
<p>“I won’t follow that fellow,” was his half-conscious,
inward resolve. “But I’ll take it the other way—if
only I can get the door open before I drop. This<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span>
room is full of sulphur, and it seems to be getting
thicker.”</p>
<p>This was not really the case, but Chick had inhaled
so much of the deadly vapor that he felt as if he could
not stand any more, and each moment it had a worse
effect upon him.</p>
<p>Fortunately, he contrived to unlock the door, and
lurched into the hallway beyond.</p>
<p>The stairs to the cellar were before him. Avoiding
them, he made his way toward where fresh air was
streaming in at the open yard door.</p>
<p>“Air!” he panted.</p>
<p>As he reached the doorway, he uttered an ejaculation
of relief—and found himself in the grip of a pair
of powerful arms. He had been seized by one of the
policemen.</p>
<p>“All right, Bob!” shouted the officer, giving Chick a
shake as involuntarily he attempted to pull away. “I
have one of them!”</p>
<p>“Let go, you dub!” gasped Chick. “Don’t you know
who I am?”</p>
<p>“Sure I do. But I don’t want the story of your life.
Tell that to the captain when I get you to the station.”</p>
<p>He felt a row of knuckles grinding into the back of
his neck. Under ordinary conditions, when he was
himself, Chick could have made some sort of fight.
Probably he would have done so, even though he knew
it was useless to oppose a good policeman in the performance
of his duty.</p>
<p>As it was, however, being sick and faint, and having
hardly any strength, he suddenly collapsed, like an
empty sack, in the hands of the blue-coated captor.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span></p>
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