poor creature freezin' an' in distress. If I was you, I'd go and look
out there. Please do."

"Doggone, Eva, if you was me you'd be asleep instid of huntin' up
trouble on a night like this. They ain't nothin' down there an'
you--but, by cracky! mebby you're right. Supposin' there is some poor
cuss out there huntin' a place to sleep. I'll go and look;" and Mr.
Crow, the most tender-hearted man in the world, crawled shiveringly but
quickly from the warm bed. In his stocking feet--Anderson slept in his
socks on those bitter nights--he made his way down the front stairs,
grumbling but determined. Mrs. Crow followed close behind, anxious to
verify the claim that routed him from his nest.

"It may be a robber," she chattered, as he pulled aside a front window
curtain. Anderson drew back hastily.

"Well, why in thunder didn't you say so before?" he gasped. "Doggone,
Eva, that's no way to do! He might 'a' fired through the winder at me."

"But he's in the house by this time, if it was a robber," she
whispered. "He wouldn't stand out on the porch all night."

"That's right," he whispered in reply. "You're a good deducer, after
all. I wish I had my dark lantern. Thunderation!" He stubbed his toe
against the sewing machine. There is nothing that hurts more than
unintentional contact with a sewing machine. "Why in sixty don't you
light a light, Eva? How can I--"

"Listen!" she whispered shrilly. "Hear that? Anderson, there's some one
walkin' on the porch!"