"Why is that, Frank?"

"Because it may have been a dynamite explosion blowing up somebody's safe,
and of course Mace would say I did it."

"Don't jest, Frank," pleaded his aunt. "I'm chilled through and shaking all
over. Get outside and see if you cannot learn what it all means."

"I think myself it was probably an accidental blast at the quarry down the
river," said Frank; "but I'll soon find out."

He did not dress fully, and let himself out on the porch in his slippers.
As he walked down to the gate Frank noticed lights appear in many houses
nearer the village, as if their inmates had been suddenly aroused from
sleep.

Then distant voices, a rumbling wagon, people talking in loud tones, boyish
shouts and a vague chorus of sounds unusual for the midnight hour, were
drifted to Frank's hearing. From all this, however, he could think out no
coherent idea as to what might be going on nearer town.

"It's not a fire, for there's no glare," he decided. "There's some kind of
a commotion over near the schoolhouse, it seems. Reckon I'll dress fully
and investigate."

There was a certain attraction for Frank in the distant bustle and turmoil.
He went back into the house to find his aunt seated in the front hall. She
was wrapped up in a shawl, pale and shivering.