Placing the ladder as quietly as possible under Hinton's window, he cautiously began the ascent. The sudden outburst of the guineas had set his nerves a-quiver, and what with his breathless condition, and a predisposition to giddiness, he found some difficulty in reaching the sill. When at last he succeeded, he saw, by the light of the now refulgent moon, the figure of Hinton lying across the foot of the bed, dressed, but asleep. The opening not being sufficiently large to admit him, he thrust in his head and whispered hoarsely through his chattering teeth: "Hinton! I say, Hinton, there's a burglar in the house!" Hinton started up, and stared dully at the excited apparition. "Hush!" whispered Mr. Opp, dramatically, lifting a warning hand. "I've been tracking the scoundrel for half an hour. He's in the house now. We'll surround him. We'll bind him hand and foot. You get the front door open, and I'll meet you on the outside. It's all planned; just do as I say." Hinton, who was springing for the door, paused with his hand on the knob. "What's that?" It was Mrs. Gusty's commanding tones from a front window: "He's round at the side of the house. He's been after my guineas! I saw him a minute ago going across the yard with a ladder. Shoot him if you can. Shoot him in the leg, so he can't get away. Quick! Quick!" Mr. Opp had only time to turn from the window when he felt the ladder seized from below and jerked violently forward. With a terrific crash he came down with it, and found himself locked in a close struggle with the supposed burglar. To his excited imagination his adversary seemed a Titan, with sinews of steel and breath of fire. The combatants rolled upon the ground and fought for possession of each other's throats. The conflict, while fierce, was brief. As Hinton and Mrs. Gusty rushed around the corner of the house, the fighters shouted in unison, "I've got him!" and Mr. Opp, opening one swollen eye, gazed down into the mild but bloody features of little Mr. Tucker! With the instinct that always prompted him to apologize when any one bumped into him, he withdrew his hands immediately from Mr. Tucker's throat and began vehement explanations. But Mr. Tucker still clung to his collar, sputtering wrathful ejaculations. Mrs. Gusty, wrapped in a bed-quilt, and with her unicorn horn at its most ferocious angle, held the lamp on high while Hinton rushed between the belligerents. Excited and incoherent explanations followed, and it was not until Mr. Opp, who was leaning limply against a tree, regained his breath that the mystery was cleared up.