IN DEADLY PERIL.

Never shall I forget the adventures of the night when I accompanied Woglom and his pal on that expedition.

I have been in many ticklish places, but I never got into one where I was worse stumped than I was that night.

The circumstances were very peculiar, and the knowledge that at any moment I might be——

But, perhaps, it would be more intelligible to the reader, did I begin at the beginning and narrate the incidents of that escapade.

While the pair of precious villains pretended to have taken me fully into their confidence, they had not really done so.

They were going to break into a house.

This much was truth.

But, as I understood them, the house was in the suburbs—somewhere in the neighborhood of Fort Washington, I took it.

It was because I believed that vicinity contained the intended scene of robbery, that I so readily consented to accompany them.

I would probably be left outside to keep guard, and would take advantage of the circumstance to call the police, and be on hand to bag them when they came out with their plunder.

It was not until after we had got started that I was undeceived.

I then learned that the "suburbs," as they meant it, was in New Jersey, on the line of the Central Railroad.

A train left near midnight.

This was the train we were to take, to reach which we were compelled to somewhat hasten our pace.

I was puzzled to know what to do.

I might have called for assistance on the policemen we passed, and have taken them into custody.

But this would have been worse than useless under the circumstances.

The rascals could not be held and punished because it could not be proved that they had intended committing a robbery.

Men cannot be sent to prison for intention of wrong. They must be proved to have committed the wrong.

Should I back out of accompanying them?

So I asked myself.

While still in a state of uncertainty we reached the ferry.

"I will go along," I mentally decided. "I may be able to give an alarm and collar them there as well as if it had taken place here."

And so I went.

We reached the little town after a short ride in the cars, a little town which I shall not name, but which is noted for its handsome residences, and its wealthy people.

While on a tramp through the country Woglom had applied at the house for something to eat.

He was provided with food, and asked if he did not wish to work. He said "Yes." He was put to work cleaning out the cellar of the house.

Such an opportunity was not to be thrown aside.

He made a diagram of the interior of the house, and located its rooms and the furniture in them with an accuracy that comes only by practice.

This was the house that we were on the way to "crack" that night.

We reached it.

Passing by, we paused at a little distance to hold a consultation.

The house was all dark and silent, the sky was somewhat clouded, and everything seemed favorable for our undertaking.

I was given a bottle of chloroform, and on my pleading ignorance, was instructed how to use it.

There was no need here of any one remaining outside to watch.

We were all to enter.

When Woglom was in the house, he had made use of a "crooked" man's never-absent companion, a screw-driver.

With this he had loosened the screws of the iron buttons which secured the cellar windows, which were then left so poorly secured that a slight push would be sufficient to open them.

Consulting his diagram by the light of a match, Woglom located the particular window which he considered it most advisable to attack.

With soft steps we crept around the house, keeping close to it.

We reached the window.

Woglom went down on his knees before it.

Listening a minute, and finding everything continued quiet, the master-villain applied a gentle pressure to the window.

It did not give.

He pressed harder.

Still it remained firmly secured.

Harder still he pressed.

Then I heard him utter an oath.

By some manner, or by accident, the inmates had discovered that the windows had been tampered with, and had re-fastened the buttons.

Again we consulted, having withdrawn for that purpose.

It was Woglom's opinion, that while the looseness of the buttons had been noticed, the inhabitants of the house would hardly be likely to suppose it a piece of work preparatory to a robbery.

"Shall we go ahead then?" I asked.

"Yes," was the decision.

Back to the house we went.

Again we paused at the window.

From his pockets Woglom now produced a number of implements.

Against the window pane he pressed a bit of a sticky substance resembling putty, and then sunk the head of a tool he did not wish to use in the stuff.

This done, he made use of a glazier's point.

He made a circular cut on the pane, the putty forming the central point or axis.

Now he tapped gently on the cut glass with an iron chisel, whose head was covered by a piece of felt cloth to deaden the sound.

Presently the cut portion gave way.

Now the use of the putty became apparent. It was to prevent the cut-out part of the glass from falling and shattering on the floor inside.

The ingenuity, the great care, the art with which burglars work is a revelation to those who have no knowledge of the methods by which such startling robberies are made possible.

The circular piece of glass was brought to the outside and laid carefully down.

Through the aperture thus formed a hand could be inserted, and the buttons turned about, when the window could be easily opened, permitting ingress to the cellar.

Once this was gained, little or no trouble would be experienced in reaching the upper portions of the house.

Woglom inserted his hand.

He reached the button at one side and turned it.

He then reached out for the other button, and—a wild howl gave me an awful start.

Woglom had uttered it.

Following close upon its heels came a string of horrible oaths.

"What's up—what's wrong?"

"My hand is caught in some sort of a contrivance!" moaned or groaned Woglom. "Quick—the hole is big enough—try and get my hand loose."

His pal inserted his hand.

Now was my time to capture them!

I drew my revolver, and had taken a forward stop, when——

Bang!

Almost beneath my feet a spring gun was discharged, and I could hear the big buckshot—each one a young bullet—buzzing about my ears, like a swarm of hungry flies on a hot summer's day.

I paused.

A window went up.

A head appeared and a stern voice said:

"Aha! I've got you now, you rascals;" and I saw the muzzle of a gun appear. "Stay where you are if you value your lives! A dozen spring guns are concealed just there, and a single step may discharge them all."

Heaven!

The cold sweat started from every pore of my body.

Spring guns!

What infernal things they are, anyhow.

I trembled. Yes, I own up to it—I trembled. And so, I think, any man would who was made of flesh and blood.

It was an awful feeling, to know that a mine was concealed right beneath your feet, which the slightest move might cause to explode.

Did I stand still?

Well—I think I did. I was rooted to the spot, and with horror watched Woglom's struggles to free himself, for I feared that his movements would cause the dreaded explosion.