"Well, if I find one of them he's gone," he replied, returning to his own look-out. And a moment later the almost simultaneous discharge of both barrels of his gun jarred the house. "Don't know whether I got him or not," he said, as he drew back and began to reload, "for I couldn't see very well, but I'll bet he thinks a hurricane came along through the bushes. It's too dark now to see anything and all we can do is to wait." "Wait for what?" I asked. "Wait for them to try to break in. They'll try it after they have had a few more pulls at the bottle, I think. Now let's keep perfectly quiet and watch." The moon had not yet risen and the woods stood about us like a black wall. No wind was abroad, the air in the house was close, and I could hear my own heart beating against the floor. There was scarcely any use to look out now, for nothing could be seen, and I arose and sat with my back against the wall, taking care to keep clear of the small opening which I had made. It was so dark in the room that I could not see Alf, but I could hear him, for softly he was humming a tune: "Hi, Bettie Martin, tip-toe fine." For days he had been heavy with the melancholy of his love, but now in this hour of danger his heart seemed to be light and attuned to a rollicking air. I have known many a man to breathe a delicious thrill in an atmosphere of peril, to feel a leap of the blood, a gladness, but it was at a time of intense excitement, a sort of epic joy; but how could a man, lying in the dark, waiting for he knew not what--how could he put down a weighty care and take up a lightsome tune? Down in the hollow a screech owl was crying, and his mate on the hill-top replied to his call, while in the room near me was the whif of a bat. And Alf was now so silent that I thought he must have fallen asleep, but soon I heard him softly whistling: "Hi, Bettie Martin, tip-tip-toe fine." "You seem to be enjoying yourself," said I. "If you had brought a fiddle we might have a dance." I heard him titter as he wallowed on the floor. "This is fun," he said, "the only real fun I've had since--I was going to say since the war, but I was too young to go into society at that time." "What do you think they are up to now, Alf?" I asked. "Blamed if I know. Getting tired?" "Well, I don't want to stay here all night. What are we waiting for?" "It's hard to tell just at present, and if we don't get a more encouraging report pretty soon we'll break the engagement and go home. What's that?" I listened and at first heard nothing, and was just about to say that it must be the screech-owl come closer, when from a corner of the house there came a distant and sharp crackle. I heard Alf scuffle to his feet. "We are in for it!"