The Box Of Robbers

: American Fairy Tales

No one intended to leave Martha alone that afternoon, but it

happened that everyone was called away, for one reason or another.

Mrs. McFarland was attending the weekly card party held by the

Women's Anti-Gambling League. Sister Nell's young man had called

quite unexpectedly to take her for a long drive. Papa was at the

office, as usual. It was Mary Ann's day out. As for Emeline, she

certainly should have stayed in the
ouse and looked after the

little girl; but Emeline had a restless nature.

"Would you mind, miss, if I just crossed the alley to speak a word

to Mrs. Carleton's girl?" she asked Martha.

"'Course not," replied the child. "You'd better lock the back door,

though, and take the key, for I shall be upstairs."

"Oh, I'll do that, of course, miss," said the delighted maid, and

ran away to spend the afternoon with her friend, leaving Martha

quite alone in the big house, and locked in, into the bargain.

The little girl read a few pages in her new book, sewed a few

stitches in her embroidery and started to "play visiting" with her

four favorite dolls. Then she remembered that in the attic was a

doll's playhouse that hadn't been used for months, so she decided

she would dust it and put it in order.

Filled with this idea, the girl climbed the winding stairs to the

big room under the roof. It was well lighted by three dormer windows

and was warm and pleasant. Around the walls were rows of boxes and

trunks, piles of old carpeting, pieces of damaged furniture, bundles

of discarded clothing and other odds and ends of more or less value.

Every well-regulated house has an attic of this sort, so I need not

describe it.

The doll's house had been moved, but after a search Martha found it

away over in a corner near the big chimney.

She drew it out and noticed that behind it was a black wooden chest

which Uncle Walter had sent over from Italy years and years

ago--before Martha was born, in fact. Mamma had told her about it

one day; how there was no key to it, because Uncle Walter wished it

to remain unopened until he returned home; and how this wandering

uncle, who was a mighty hunter, had gone into Africa to hunt

elephants and had never been heard from afterwards.

The little girl looked at the chest curiously, now that it had by

accident attracted her attention.

It was quite big--bigger even than mamma's traveling trunk--and was

studded all over with tarnished brassheaded nails. It was heavy,

too, for when Martha tried to lift one end of it she found she could

not stir it a bit. But there was a place in the side of the cover

for a key. She stooped to examine the lock, and saw that it would

take a rather big key to open it.

Then, as you may suspect, the little girl longed to open Uncle

Walter's big box and see what was in it. For we are all curious, and

little girls are just as curious as the rest of us.

"I don't b'lieve Uncle Walter'll ever come back," she thought. "Papa

said once that some elephant must have killed him. If I only had a

key--" She stopped and clapped her little hands together gayly as

she remembered a big basket of keys on the shelf in the linen

closet. They were of all sorts and sizes; perhaps one of them would

unlock the mysterious chest!

She flew down the stairs, found the basket and returned with it to

the attic. Then she sat down before the brass-studded box and began

trying one key after another in the curious old lock. Some were too

large, but most were too small. One would go into the lock but would

not turn; another stuck so fast that she feared for a time that she

would never get it out again. But at last, when the basket was

almost empty, an oddly-shaped, ancient brass key slipped easily into

the lock. With a cry of joy Martha turned the key with both hands;

then she heard a sharp "click," and the next moment the heavy lid

flew up of its own accord!

The little girl leaned over the edge of the chest an instant, and

the sight that met her eyes caused her to start back in amazement.

Slowly and carefully a man unpacked himself from the chest, stepped

out upon the floor, stretched his limbs and then took off his hat

and bowed politely to the astonished child.

He was tall and thin and his face seemed badly tanned or sunburnt.

Then another man emerged from the chest, yawning and rubbing his

eyes like a sleepy schoolboy. He was of middle size and his skin

seemed as badly tanned as that of the first.

While Martha stared open-mouthed at the remarkable sight a third man

crawled from the chest. He had the same complexion as his fellows,

but was short and fat.

All three were dressed in a curious manner. They wore short jackets

of red velvet braided with gold, and knee breeches of sky-blue satin

with silver buttons. Over their stockings were laced wide ribbons of

red and yellow and blue, while their hats had broad brims with high,

peaked crowns, from which fluttered yards of bright-colored ribbons.

They had big gold rings in their ears and rows of knives and pistols

in their belts. Their eyes were black and glittering and they wore

long, fierce mustaches, curling at the ends like a pig's tail.

"My! but you were heavy," exclaimed the fat one, when he had pulled

down his velvet jacket and brushed the dust from his sky-blue

breeches. "And you squeezed me all out of shape."

"It was unavoidable, Luigi," responded the thin man, lightly; "the

lid of the chest pressed me down upon you. Yet I tender you my


"As for me," said the middle-sized man, carelessly rolling a

cigarette and lighting it, "you must acknowledge I have been your

nearest friend for years; so do not be disagreeable."

"You mustn't smoke in the attic," said Martha, recovering herself at

sight of the cigarette. "You might set the house on fire."

The middle-sized man, who had not noticed her before, at this speech

turned to the girl and bowed.

"Since a lady requests it," said he, "I shall abandon my cigarette,"

and he threw it on the floor and extinguished it with his foot.

"Who are you?" asked Martha, who until now had been too astonished

to be frightened.

"Permit us to introduce ourselves," said the thin man, flourishing

his hat gracefully. "This is Lugui," the fat man nodded; "and this

is Beni," the middle-sized man bowed; "and I am Victor. We are three

bandits--Italian bandits."

"Bandits!" cried Martha, with a look of horror.

"Exactly. Perhaps in all the world there are not three other bandits

so terrible and fierce as ourselves," said Victor, proudly.

"'Tis so," said the fat man, nodding gravely.

"But it's wicked!" exclaimed Martha.

"Yes, indeed," replied Victor. "We are extremely and tremendously

wicked. Perhaps in all the world you could not find three men more

wicked than those who now stand before you."

"'Tis so," said the fat man, approvingly.

"But you shouldn't be so wicked," said the girl;


Victor cast down his eyes and blushed.

"Naughty!" gasped Beni, with a horrified look.

"'Tis a hard word," said Luigi, sadly, and buried his face in his


"I little thought," murmured Victor, in a voice broken by emotion,

"ever to be so reviled--and by a lady! Yet, perhaps you spoke

thoughtlessly. You must consider, miss, that our wickedness has an

excuse. For how are we to be bandits, let me ask, unless we are


Martha was puzzled and shook her head, thoughtfully. Then she

remembered something.

"You can't remain bandits any longer," said she, "because you are

now in America."

"America!" cried the three, together.

"Certainly. You are on Prairie avenue, in Chicago. Uncle Walter sent

you here from Italy in this chest."

The bandits seemed greatly bewildered by this announcement. Lugui

sat down on an old chair with a broken rocker and wiped his forehead

with a yellow silk handkerchief. Beni and Victor fell back upon the

chest and looked at her with pale faces and staring eyes.

When he had somewhat recovered himself Victor spoke.

"Your Uncle Walter has greatly wronged us," he said, reproachfully.

"He has taken us from our beloved Italy, where bandits are highly

respected, and brought us to a strange country where we shall not

know whom to rob or how much to ask for a ransom."

"'Tis so!" said the fat man, slapping his leg sharply.

"And we had won such fine reputations in Italy!" said Beni,


"Perhaps Uncle Walter wanted to reform you," suggested Martha.

"Are there, then, no bandits in Chicago?" asked Victor.

"Well," replied the girl, blushing in her turn, "we do not call them


"Then what shall we do for a living?" inquired Beni, despairingly.

"A great deal can be done in a big American city," said the child.

"My father is a lawyer" (the bandits shuddered), "and my mother's

cousin is a police inspector."

"Ah," said Victor, "that is a good employment. The police need to be

inspected, especially in Italy."

"Everywhere!" added Beni.

"Then you could do other things," continued Martha, encouragingly.

"You could be motor men on trolley cars, or clerks in a department

store. Some people even become aldermen to earn a living."

The bandits shook their heads sadly.

"We are not fitted for such work," said Victor. "Our business is to


Martha tried to think.

"It is rather hard to get positions in the gas office," she said,

"but you might become politicians."

"No!" cried Beni, with sudden fierceness; "we must not abandon our

high calling. Bandits we have always been, and bandits we must


"'Tis so!" agreed the fat man.

"Even in Chicago there must be people to rob," remarked Victor, with


Martha was distressed.

"I think they have all been robbed," she objected.

"Then we can rob the robbers, for we have experience and talent

beyond the ordinary," said Beni.

"Oh, dear; oh, dear!" moaned the girl; "why did Uncle Walter ever

send you here in this chest?"

The bandits became interested.

"That is what we should like to know," declared Victor, eagerly.

"But no one will ever know, for Uncle Walter was lost while hunting

elephants in Africa," she continued, with conviction.

"Then we must accept our fate and rob to the best of our ability,"

said Victor. "So long as we are faithful to our beloved profession

we need not be ashamed."

"'Tis so!" cried the fat man.

"Brothers! we will begin now. Let us rob the house we are in."

"Good!" shouted the others and sprang to their feet.

Beni turned threateningly upon the child.

"Remain here!" he commanded. "If you stir one step your blood will

be on your own head!" Then he added, in a gentler voice: "Don't be

afraid; that's the way all bandits talk to their captives. But of

course we wouldn't hurt a young lady under any circumstances."

"Of course not," said Victor.

The fat man drew a big knife from his belt and flourished it about

his head.

"S'blood!" he ejaculated, fiercely.

"S'bananas!" cried Beni, in a terrible voice.

"Confusion to our foes!" hissed Victor.

And then the three bent themselves nearly double and crept

stealthily down the stairway with cocked pistols in their hands and

glittering knives between their teeth, leaving Martha trembling with

fear and too horrified to even cry for help.

How long she remained alone in the attic she never knew, but finally

she heard the catlike tread of the returning bandits and saw them

coming up the stairs in single file.

All bore heavy loads of plunder in their arms, and Lugui was

balancing a mince pie on the top of a pile of her mother's best

evening dresses. Victor came next with an armful of bric-a-brac, a

brass candelabra and the parlor clock. Beni had the family Bible,

the basket of silverware from the sideboard, a copper kettle and

papa's fur overcoat.

"Oh, joy!" said Victor, putting down his load; "it is pleasant to

rob once more."

"Oh, ecstacy!" said Beni; but he let the kettle drop on his toe and

immediately began dancing around in anguish, while he muttered queer

words in the Italian language.

"We have much wealth," continued Victor, holding the mince pie while

Lugui added his spoils to the heap; "and all from one house! This

America must be a rich place."

With a dagger he then cut himself a piece of the pie and handed the

remainder to his comrades. Whereupon all three sat upon the floor

and consumed the pie while Martha looked on sadly.

"We should have a cave," remarked Beni; "for we must store our

plunder in a safe place. Can you tell us of a secret cave?" he asked


"There's a Mammoth cave," she answered, "but it's in Kentucky. You

would be obliged to ride on the cars a long time to get there."

The three bandits looked thoughtful and munched their pie silently,

but the next moment they were startled by the ringing of the

electric doorbell, which was heard plainly even in the remote attic.

"What's that?" demanded Victor, in a hoarse voice, as the three

scrambled to their feet with drawn daggers.

Martha ran to the window and saw it was only the postman, who had

dropped a letter in the box and gone away again. But the incident

gave her an idea of how to get rid of her troublesome bandits, so

she began wringing her hands as if in great distress and cried out:

"It's the police!"

The robbers looked at one another with genuine alarm, and Lugui

asked, tremblingly:

"Are there many of them?"

"A hundred and twelve!" exclaimed Martha, after pretending to count


"Then we are lost!" declared Beni; "for we could never fight so many

and live."

"Are they armed?" inquired Victor, who was shivering as if cold.

"Oh, yes," said she. "They have guns and swords and pistols and axes


"And what?" demanded Lugui.

"And cannons!"

The three wicked ones groaned aloud and Beni said, in a hollow


"I hope they will kill us quickly and not put us to the torture. I

have been told these Americans are painted Indians, who are

bloodthirsty and terrible."

"'Tis so!" gasped the fat man, with a shudder.

Suddenly Martha turned from the window.

"You are my friends, are you not?" she asked.

"We are devoted!" answered Victor.

"We adore you!" cried Beni.

"We would die for you!" added Lugui, thinking he was about to die


"Then I will save you," said the girl.

"How?" asked the three, with one voice.

"Get back into the chest," she said. "I will then close the lid, so

they will be unable to find you."

They looked around the room in a dazed and irresolute way, but she


"You must be quick! They will soon be here to arrest you."

Then Lugui sprang into the chest and lay fat upon the bottom. Beni

tumbled in next and packed himself in the back side. Victor followed

after pausing to kiss her hand to the girl in a graceful manner.

Then Martha ran up to press down the lid, but could not make it


"You must squeeze down," she said to them.

Lugui groaned.

"I am doing my best, miss," said Victor, who was nearest the top;

"but although we fitted in very nicely before, the chest now seems

rather small for us."

"'Tis so!" came the muffled voice of the fat man from the bottom.

"I know what takes up the room," said Beni.

"What?" inquired Victor, anxiously.

"The pie," returned Beni.

"'Tis so!" came from the bottom, in faint accents.

Then Martha sat upon the lid and pressed it down with all her

weight. To her great delight the lock caught, and, springing down,

she exerted all her strength and turned the key.

* * * * *

This story should teach us not to interfere in matters that do not

concern us. For had Martha refrained from opening Uncle Walter's

mysterious chest she would not have been obliged to carry downstairs

all the plunder the robbers had brought into the attic.