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allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted
to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret.

When all else had been learned, the widow said: “I went to sleep reading in bed
and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn’t you come and wake me?”
“We judged it warn’t worth while. Those fellows warn’t likely to come
againthey hadn’t any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking
you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your
house all the rest of the night. They’ve just come back.” More visitors came, and
the story had to be told and re-told for a couple of hours more.

There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was
early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a
sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished,
Judge Thatcher’s wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down
the aisle with the crowd and said: “Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just
expected she would be tired to death.” “Your Becky?” “Yes,”- with a startled
look,- “didn’t she stay with you last night?” “Why, no.” Mrs. Thatcher turned
pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend,
passed by. Aunt Polly said: “Good morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good morning, Mrs.
Harper. I’ve got a boy that’s turned up missing. I reckon my Tom staid at your
house last night-one of you. And now he’s afraid to come to church. I’ve got to
settle with him.” Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than
ever.

“He didn’t stay with us,” said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked
anxiety came into Aunt Polly’s face.

“Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?” “No’m.” “When did you see
him last?” Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had
stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness
took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and
young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were
on board the ferry boat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of
inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear
that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away; Aunt Polly fell to
crying and wringing her hands.

The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and
within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up!
The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were
forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferry boat ordered out,
and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring
down high-road and river toward the cave.

All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited
Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them,
too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited
for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was,
“Send more candles-and send food.” Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and