Good night." And with a great assumption of easiness, the crony of Jack Curtiss walked rapidly off up the street.
"I guess he's right," mused Hiram, as he hurried on home.

"But if that wasn't Bill Bender who walked round that corner it was his ghost, and all the ghosts I ever read about don't wear squeaky boots." If Hiram had remained he would have had further cause to be suspicious and speculative.
The lad's footsteps had hardly died out down the street before Bill Bender cautiously retraced his way, and, going round to the side street, upon which the steps leading to the armory opened, gave a cautious whistle.

In reply a sack was lowered from a window to him by some person invisible above.
Although there was some little light on the Main Street by reason of the moon and the few scattering lamps along the thoroughfare, the spot in which Bill now stood was as black as the proverbial pocket.
"Is the coast all clear ?" came down a voice from the window above.
"Yes; but if I hadn't spotted young Hiram Nelson coming down the street and warned you to put out that light, it wouldn't have been," responded Bill in the same cautious tone.
"Well, we're safe enough now," came back the voice above, which any of his acquaintances would have recognized as Jack Curtiss'.

"I've got the rest of them in this other sack.

Here, take this one when I drop it." Bill made a bungling effort to catch the heavy receptacle that fell following Jack's warning, but in the darkness he failed, and it crashed down with quite a clatter.
"Look out!" warned Jack anxiously, "some one might hear that." "Not in this peaceful community.