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Show believe that I am similarly armed and watchful, and ho may entertain a sort of fear of me. Ha, ha. If it were not so ghastly it might be ludicrous. On the part of the second theory, if he thinVs me merely drowsy he will wait forth regular breathing that denotes sleep before he stirs again. Failing to hear that he may proceed to stern ineas ures intimidation or worse. I have given up the idea of his being an assassin. It is an illogical supposition,: and the darkness shall not make me superstitious or childish. : ' -; ( ' i What if I simply counterfeit sleep and j let him go on with Jus scheme of plundering? plun-dering? But I cannot sleep.- As alert and cool as I feel myself to be, this experience ex-perience has made me wrought up and nervous. I wish it were light, or, failing that, I wish this prowler would make tip his mind to do something. The darkness j is alarming, but the knowledge that it envelops this wretch makes it tenfold more fearful. Look into a dark cave. It is not the mere gloom that makes it seem so awesome; it is the thought that in this cave hides what? You do not know, but observe yon rolling thunder cloud; it is black, lowering and tremendous. tremen-dous. Perhaps it is tornado charged. At least, what it may hold renders it more an object of fear than its mere out ward form. How doubly and quadruply sickening, then, when we feel that the .darkness surrounding us is hiding that most terrible terri-ble of beasts, man? For as the intelligence of man predominates pre-dominates over the craft, of animal's sc does the ferocity of man surpass that of the tiger and shark. ' - I cannot go to sleep. This man must be the first to make a move on the chess lward. Does he intend to wait? So will I till the rumble of the early wagons shall resound along the paved street. Till the watchful stars have doffed their gray uniform and the faint, ashen dawn shall pry with tremulous fingers in the crevices of my window shutters. But will he wait? Now that is a fallacious conjecture. He must fulfill his object and depart. He must obtain something for the extreme risk taken. It is no light thing to come into a home on an errand of this nature. Slaying him undermost circumstances would be perfectly justifiable even in the eyes of the law. And in the eyes of the juror it would require extraordinary circumstances cir-cumstances indeed to make you liable to punishment. Besides, if convicted for burglary, the punishment is extremely severe; in some states and under some statutes the death penalty may be given. , Therefore this man in my room will shortly commence operations.' Where will he begin and how? Will he first ascertain if I am asleep, or will he conclude con-clude that I am awake and proceed to . the pleasing task of terrorizing me? And what, after all, will be his reward? 1 have no money, my watch , is a . key-winder key-winder and a cheap one, and my other jewolry is of the plainest possible kind. Why do not these fellows select a residence resi-dence more likely to afford better opportunities oppor-tunities for riches than my humble rooms? They usually do. Do they not always? Almost invariably. It is long past midnight. I am awake. I appeal to logic and calm common sense. It is I, myself; I am' the man iu the room. It was even so. I turned to my pillow and slept. Ernest McGaffey in Chicago Times. shifted his weight somewhere and the change had caused the boards in the wardrobe to expand or contract. In the sitting room all at once some fragments of anthracite drop noisily down the "feeder" of the the base burning stove. The curtain flaps. Everything inanimate inani-mate seems to be on the lookout. On my hand a misty breath of night wind comes like the breath of a human being. Action or inaction? And now, which is the best kind of bravery? Is it the forlorn hope quality, which heeds not of danger, but hurries headlong to almost certain death? Or is it the cool and deliberate de-liberate intent to carry out a purpose already al-ready carefully matured? ' Recklessness may be excused for example's sake, and true courage will do or die for a friend or a loved one's peril. But in a contest of the kind which will follow if I attempt violence against this nocturnal prowler the truest valor is the deliberative and discreet kind. I am broad awake now, and no excuse can be made for me if I yield to rash impulses im-pulses against ray better judgment. The situation is plain. The circle of contemplation contem-plation is a small one. As to the problem, it represents but three important factors, and they are as follows; It is midnight I am awake-there awake-there is a man in the room. Although my ears had not caught the sound of his entrance into my sleeping apartments I feel confident that he has been there but a few moments. I am of an exceedingly wakeful disposition and the vicinity of any one in my room at night, or of even an animal, is almost immediately followed by my waking up. The back door had been securely fastened fas-tened before I went'to bed, and the windows win-dows of the house were too high to be reached except by means of a ladder. At the front door a midnight marauder would have been too conspicuous. Besides Be-sides the alley which led into two other byways afforded a dark and various mode of retreat in case of either hurried or leisurely flight He must have entered en-tered by way of the back door. To cross the kitchen floor without arousing me he must have walked either in his stocking feet or worn stockings over his shoes. Now, I cannot say truthfully whether I am what is commonly known as a brave man if you judge me by a certain standard. . I have read of just such occurrences oc-currences as this that I am experiencing, where men .have leaped - from their conches at dead of night, grappled with the thief and overpowered him. They were, we will say, brave men; Certainly Cer-tainly they were reckless men. I admire ad-mire their dash, but am not inclined to follow in their footsteps. They either did not think of or did not care for the questions of arms or advantage, but boldly risked their lives, regardless ot these differences. I am, to be perfectly frank, afraid to attempt this sort of an exploit. If this devil in my room, whom I hate with a deadly hatred, were unarmed then I would not hesitate to try conclusions with him, even in the darkness, relying on my natural strength, grip, quickness, and the intensity of my anger at being awakened from an honest slumber to solve such a demoniacal puzzle. If by any possibility I should have found this fellow unprepared and could have killed him like a dog, without giving him the slightest opportunity, I would have done so instantly and without the least compunction. com-punction. , ---( But the possibilities even of his venturing ven-turing here at midnight unarmed are not to be thought of. Such a theory is against human experience, against reasoning, rea-soning, and is absolutely illogical.' I refuse to entertain it. To recur to the proposition of attacking attack-ing a burglar in midnight darkness. It has sometimes proved a . complete success, suc-cess, sometimes a partial one; but often it has turned out a disastrous failure. If you are wounded, and secure the burglar, you are a hero, and the intruder will doubtless be fitly punished. Meanwhile Mean-while you suffer more: or leas pain, inconvenience in-convenience and trouble before you can return to your business. ,, However, the admiring comments of your friends are very sweet.. ... . . But supposing you were crippled for life. That is not pleasant to contemplate, contem-plate, is it? . You are a hero, it is truo, but cannot run, dance, skate, hunt and the like. You are, we will venture, not yet 80 years of age; and will live till 60. Twenty years, or more of limping through life simply for an impulse I . It will not do.' Again, it might be death; lingering or sudden. Will the fact that justice takes the life of the murderer give you any recompense? The seasons the green carpet of spring, the half blown roses of summer, autumn's mellowed glory, and the feathery signals of winter these will come to you and find you all unresponsive. unrespon-sive. Men and women you will heed not, for your feet shall, have dipped in the tide of the unknown, and your lips will be silent.- . Noj this positively will not do. It is probably 1 o'clock at night. I tun awake and vigilant. There is a mail in the room, aud he is armed. Supposing, now, that I were armed. I have need and .been- familiar with firearms fire-arms since I was a mere boy accustomed accus-tomed to the use' of rifle, shot gun and revolver. The revolver is necessarily the weapon which appears in these affrays between the burglar and the householder. Now, although I am not what 1b termed a "crack" shot with a revolver, it would be an easy thing for me to put a 38 caliber ball into a man if he were sitting or standing stand-ing thirty feet from me. ., If I had my revolver now, would it be advisable to begin operations? Let us see. This man is either sitting or standing stand-ing in some corner of the room. He would not stand in the center of the room, for the tendency is to skulk where the shadows lie deepest. Supping my revolver re-volver was in my hand and I fired a shot. That would change the aspect of this matter into an absolute question of life or death. The burglar would return the shot. . He wojfld fire at the flash of my weapon; perhaps hold a dark lantern to one side and dispose of me at one or at the moat two shots, : ' As it is almost impossible to determine where a man is who is merely somewhere in your bedroom, I am led to conclude that promiscuous firing on the part of the occupant of the bed is not a wise action; ac-tion; further, that it is suicidal. This man in the room is doing one of two things. : He either believes that I am hilly awake and cognizant of his presence, or that I am restless without suspicion and limy wjuii be again iu dreamland. If I adopt the' first idea, he has hid hand on his weapou ready at an instant's notice to tire.t He may be even anxious and a trifle startled. li is within tho bound of possibility that he max, even ' A MAN IN THE K00M. t I awoke at midnight with a start, There was a man in the room. The shutters were closed and the window, win-dow, as I had left it, was lowered for a pace of probably six inches or more. He must have come in , then , through the door of my bedroom, which adjoined the tttting room. It had been a stormy night and the Monotonous drip drop of the remaining (lobules of rain came from the eaves in a Itaournful and irregular plashing. My Censes at first were in a half haze a .drowsy and bewildered stupor was what 1 found myself in as I first waked. Gradually my mind became clearer. The room was intensely dark; so dark, In fact, that the peculiar illosionary buz-'ting buz-'ting of the silence sang in my ears. "What was to be done? It was midnight And there was a man in the room. , There is something so grisly so awfully aw-fully suggestive of murder in this feeling feel-ing of a stranger's proximity to one at the dead of night that experience alone can jftve it its true effect. So, too, there i a 'very strange and as yet unsolved riddle in this knowledge of unseen human con-ftiguity. con-ftiguity. Yon stand in a street car clinging cling-ing to a strap. Somebody behind you Irishes to advance, or needs more room. "You may be reading a paper and probably proba-bly have not noticed his approach, yet (Instinctively yon step forward. ; Or perhaps yon are standing at the entrance en-trance of some one of the great buildings f the city conversing on matters of importance im-portance with a friend. Your mind is presumably intensely occupied, your eyes on your companion, your lips moving. Suddenly yon step aside; some one brushes past, his shoes incased in rubbers, rub-bers, and turns the corner without a eound; certainly there was nothing that fconld be heard above the rumble and rattle of the numberless vehicles which jail the streets with their jarring and clangor. I Yetyou knew this person wished to pass, and that yon were possibly a little in his way. You had neither seen, heard, nor touched him, but you were nevertheless aware of him. I Take it even in the solitude of the country. Sitting on a fence in some lonely field yon are all at once apprised of the fact that a man is advancing toward to-ward yon and is already quite close to you. Now, you have doubtless been day dreaming before this conviction came to you, watching the sheep as they grazed quietly down near the river or marking the sleepy circles of some hawk's flight and midaerial poises. Yon were deeply preoccupied, to be sure, and this man came across a plowed field where -his boots crushed the dry soil and'passed along as noiselessly as the underground march of a mole. But an indefinable current of perception percep-tion wave of . intuition had warned yon of the nearness of a human being. Everything else was calculated to attract at-tract your eyes and enchain your mental faculties. However, you turned immediately imme-diately and saw him standing there railing. He had a message for you. Yet the weird message, the certainty of , the approach of a human being, who ent that? i Nay, then, I can not tell you this. '. It was the same feeling that had rushed vpon me like an avalanche as I woke. It was midnight and there was a man in the room. : Past that hour, was it not? Let me consider, for the question of time may have peculiar significance. It was 10 o'clock when I retired. At 10:80 the policeman on the beat had passed. His club, had rung sullenly on the stone coping, and I recollect picturing him to myself as he passed a sturdy, alert bine-. ' coat, with pistol and staff; peering into the allpys; looking curiously at the occasional oc-casional night lights that burned here and there with a dim and uncanny flare; whistling not infrequently; yawning; looking up at the stars, and at intervals communing with himself. It all seemed quite ludicrous, I remember, as I lay there, but the matter is hideously serious seri-ous now. What would I not give to . hear , his "locust" spurn the dull pavement; pave-ment; with'his sonorous, challenging rap. V There is something menacing in that sound at'.night to the wrong, doer. It says authoritatively: "Who goes there?" If it is past midnight the patrolman will come again in an honr or so. Death my life! Sixty minutes? Sixty min- ttes? Can . I contain my patience that ng, staring into the muffled darkness? And, indeed, what will this devil be doing do-ing meanwhile this man in the room? No! the plan of waiting for the officer kvas not feasible. What if he did come py? Would not the burglar or assassin 9efer his operation until the coast was ulear? Undoubtedly. Let me reason ibis problem out carefully, even coldly. It is, let us say, a matter of life or death. In the first place, 1 had been foolish tnough to lay my revolver on the dresser, which was twenty feet from the bed. that could only be gained by a scramble and a spring. Again suppose the intruder in-truder had taken the weapon from its testing place and stood doubly armed, watching me as a cat would watch a mouse?- I cannot bring myself to believe that this would be a sensible move. This dilemma di-lemma must be faced and grappled with in a wise as well as a courageous manner. man-ner. This wretch in my room-his life is not worth as much to himself, to the world or to humanity as mine. He has the advantage f weapons; he is on the qui vive; he knows that I am awake as suraly as 1 know that he is in my bedchamber. bed-chamber. , , The stertorous puffing of a locomotive sounds far away.. Those , men . on that engine knowthey are covered with grime and soot; they are risking their lives daily and nightly. But they are toilers. Wives and children they have, and with them the honor of women and the life of man is safe. If I were with' them how out on tho dreary, drizzling flats, with . the uieonligut straggling down on the pools by the track, I should certainly be safe.l' Here I am surely in danger. A large wardrobe in the room gives ut aWaeklingjsound, as if the ruan hail r : |