CHAPTER V.

THE ATTIC CHAMBER.


Squire Pemberton rushed down cellar. He was very much excited, and forgot
that he had been troubled with the rheumatism during the preceding winter.
When he opened the cellar door, he was considerably relieved to find that
no brilliant light saluted his expectant gaze. It was as cold and dark in
the cellar as it had been when he sorted over the last of his Warren
Russets, a few days before.

It was certain, therefore, that the house was not on fire; and,
invigorated by this thought, he descended the stairs. A strong current of
fresh, cold air extinguished the light he carried. As this was contrary to
his usual experience when he went down cellar in the evening after an
apple or a mug of cider, it assured him that there was a screw loose
somewhere. Returning to the room above, he procured a lantern, and
proceeded to the cellar again to renew his investigations.

The squire felt the cold blast of the April air, and immediately made his
way to the cellar door, holding the lantern up as high as his head, to
ascertain the nature of the mischief which the fanatical abolitionists had
perpetrated. He saw that the cellar door was broken through. The rotten
boards lay upon the steps, and with another malediction upon the mob, he
placed the lantern upon a barrel, and proceeded to repair the damage. As
he stepped forward, he stumbled against the body of the enterprising hero
of this volume, who lay as calm and still as a sleeping child.

The squire started back, not a little alarmed at the sight of the