Tony passed through the cold hall and upstairs, and opening the garret door stumbled hastily to the top step. As he reached the landing his heart gave a sudden thump. He fancied he heard a noise. He stood listening, but there was not a sound. “I guess it was the branches of the big elm scraping against the roof,” he thought. Mustering his courage he darted by the row of clothes and was just reaching up for the herbs when a figure suddenly stepped from behind the chimney. “Oh!” gasped the frightened boy, stumbling back over the big chest and bumping his head with a clatter against the dreaded sword and tomahawk. Larry’s arm raised him to his feet and Larry’s bright face bent over him. “Why, Tony! how little it takes to scare you! I was up here and heard some one coming and thought it one of the men and that I’d have some fun with him. See!” and Larry took down the rusty tomahawk and gave a whoop that made the rafters ring, and flourished the old relic in a way that caused Tony’s curly hair to stand on end. “This isn’t such a terrible thing, after all--it can’t hurt you.” He got the herbs for his young brother and as he did so, happened to look out of the window. “Whew!” he whistled softly, “there are two men going into the meeting-house. And how queerly they act, looking all around as if they were afraid some one would see them.” “Oh, Larry! can’t you run up and see if Aunt Mercy’s spectacles are in the pew? She thinks she left them there last Sunday.” “All right! you take the herbs downstairs and I will.” On his return to the kitchen Tony found that his aunt had left the room, and he sat down in the chimney corner to wait for supper. In a few moments the door opened, and Larry stood before him, his eyes flashing, his cheeks flushed. “Did you get the spectacles, Larry?” “Spectacles! I haven’t even thought of them. Listen, Tony! I have a secret--a _great_ secret. After I left you I hurried up to the meeting-house and as I stepped inside the entry I thought I heard a queer noise, as if some one were digging. So I opened the door softly and peeped in--and there--_as sure as you are alive, I saw two men digging a great, deep hole under the pulpit_. They were talking so low I couldn’t hear more than half they said. But I made out that uncle and Captain Sullivan and some others are going to meet there to-night and go off in boats on some wonderful expedition. And, Tony, I am going to find out what it is. We’ll go to our room as usual after supper, but instead of going to bed, we’ll creep downstairs and go up to the meeting-house and hide inside, and wait there.” “But will it be right to listen, Larry?” asked Tony gravely. “You know Aunt Mercy says ‘Eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves.’” “But this isn’t eavesdropping, Tony. Listening is a mean trick. But this is different. Uncle is going into danger of some sort and I _ought_ to learn what it is. I can’t believe _that_ is wrong.”