Steamboats -- Juvenile fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Naval operations -- Juvenile fiction; War stories
At the present time his father was in Washington, and he could not have
neglected to close the door. He had been to the railroad station to meet
the last train, thinking it possible that his father might return, and
he was confident that he had been the last to enter the house. He was
very sure that he had not left the door unfastened, and this assurance
made him confident that some person had entered the house. The noise at
the door of his chamber was not an illusion or a dream: though it had
been made by closing rather than by opening it, or he would have been
likely to find the intruder in his room when he lighted his lamp.
It seemed to him to be a matter of course that the midnight visitor had
come into the mansion for the purpose of plundering its occupants, or of
securing the valuables it contained. Putting his lamp on the table, he
went out upon the veranda, and looked all about him. The grounds were
very extensive, and a broad avenue led to the street. It was very dark;
but as he cast his eyes in the direction of the grand entrance to the
estate, he discovered some dark object in motion; but he lost sight of
it in a moment.
It was a living being, or it would not move, and he was certain that he
had made a discovery. Then two regrets flashed through his mind as he
stepped down from the veranda; the first, that he had not put on his
shoes before he left his chamber, and the second, that he had not taken
his pistols, for a bullet would travel a great deal faster than a
barefooted officer, even of the United States Navy. But he ran with all
his speed to the street, to the great detriment of his uncovered feet.
He reached the grand entrance in an exceedingly short space of time;
but he might as well have been in his chamber, for no ruffian, robber,
or Confederate spy could be seen. He had no means of knowing which way
the intruder at the mansion had turned, to the right or the left, or
whether, like the timid colored gentleman in a trying situation, he
had taken to the woods. Christy walked up the street, and then down the
street; but the underbrush had recently been cut in the grove, and he
did not venture to explore it without any protection for his feet.
He peered into the gloom of the night with all his eyes, and listened
with all his ears for over an hour; and then, watchful and careful
officer as he was, there were five hundred chances against him to one
in his favor, of finding the intruder, and he reluctantly returned to
the mansion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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