“Well, well,—­this is more careless of Aunt Fanny than leaving the window unlocked.  No wonder she left it unlocked,—­she wanted burglars to come in, and choke to death.  I never saw such a lot of foolish food.  Here’s some raw macaroni,—­another toothsome dish—­ nutmegs—­pepper—­sticky fly-paper,—­better and better.  Perfectly delicious!”

“Here you are!” said Ed Mason.

He had found a cake-box, with half a loaf of pound-cake,—­the kind that keeps for years.  Just at the same instant I had climbed up on a shelf and captured two glass tumblers whose contents seemed promising.  Sure enough,—­their labels bore the fascinating words:  “Raspberry Jam.”  Jimmy Toppan presently discovered a can of soda-crackers.  Mr. Daddles plunged once more into a cupboard and came forth with a can of the stuff you shine brass with,—­the kind with the horrible smell.

“Always fortunate,” he murmured; “well, this will do,—­what you’ve discovered.  I don’t seem to have contributed much to the picnic.  We’ll get some water to drink, and take this into the dining-room.  I’m about ready to sit down and rest.  Come on,—­softly, now.  Turn out the light. ...  Here’s the kitchen ... no, it isn’t, either,—­ it’s a laundry. ...  That’s funny ... been making improvements, I guess.  Here we are—­give me another match.  No, don’t light the gas,—­no need ... and here’s—­what’s this?  Butler’s pantry ... yes ... passage ... here’s the dining-room.  Here we are.  Shades down?  Yes ... light the gas ... hullo!  Where’s the old stuffed sea gull gone?  New paper!  Oh, well, it’s two years since I was here.”

Mr. Daddles wandered around the room for a while, with a puzzled air, but the rest of us were too hungry to pay much attention to him.  Ed Mason filled a water-pitcher in the butler’s pantry, and Jimmy brought some tumblers from a closet.  I opened the jam, and got some plates and knives.  Then we all sat down and began to eat.  I have never tasted anything better than the crackers and jam.  Nobody said anything for a few minutes:  we just ate.

Suddenly Mr. Daddles held up his hand,—­

“Sh-h-h-h-h!”

We stopped everything and listened.  For a minute or two we had quite forgotten that we were midnight burglars, and we were going on as if we were right at home.

“Sh-h-h-h-h-h-h!” said Mr. Daddles again, “don’t you hear something?”

We all did hear something that very instant.  No one could help hearing it.  It was the strangest sound,—­as much like the sawing of wood as anything I can think of.  Except that toward the end of the stroke it seemed to run into some tough knots in the wood, for it made two or three funny, little noises, like “yop, yop, yop.”  Then it stopped for a second or two, and then there was another long stroke, with “yop, yop” on the end.

“Do you s’pose it’s another cow?” whispered Jimmy.

Mr. Daddles shook his head, and held up his hand again for silence.  The noise continued with perfect regularity for half a minute,—­then it stopped altogether.