“What is’t?” enquired the Badger, in a low tone.

“Prime!” replied Swankie, handing over the bottle, and wiping his mouth with the cuff of his coat.

The Badger put the bottle to his mouth, but unfortunately for him, part of the liquid went down the “wrong throat”.  The result was that the poor man coughed, once, rather loudly.  Swankie, frowning fiercely, and shaking his fist, looked at him in horror; and well he might, for the Badger became first red and then purple in the face, and seemed as if he were about to burst with his efforts to keep down the cough.  It came, however, three times, in spite of him,—­not violently, but with sufficient noise to alarm them, and cause them to listen for five minutes intently ere they ventured to go on with their work, in the belief that no one had been disturbed.

But Major Stewart had been awakened by the first cough.  He was a soldier who had seen much service, and who slept lightly.  He raised himself in his bed, and listened intently on hearing the first cough.  The second cough caused him to spring up and pull on his trousers; the third cough found him half-way downstairs, with a boot-jack in his hand, and when the burglars resumed work he was peeping at them through the half-open door.

Both men were stooping over the plate-chest, the Badger with his back to the door, Swankie with his head towards it.  The major raised the boot-jack and took aim.  At the same moment the door squeaked, Big Swankie looked up hastily, and, in technical phraseology, “doused the glim”.  All was dark in an instant, but the boot-jack sped on its way notwithstanding.  The burglars were accustomed to fighting, however, and dipped their heads.  The boot-jack whizzed past, and smashed the pier-glass on the mantelpiece to a thousand atoms.  Major Stewart being expert in all the devices of warfare, knew what to expect, and drew aside.  He was not a moment too soon, for the dark lantern flew through the doorway, hit the opposite wall, and fell with a loud clatter on the stone floor of the lobby.  The Badger followed at once, and received a random blow from the major that hurled him head over heels after the lantern.

There was no mistaking the heavy tread and rush of Big Swankie as he made for the door.  Major Stewart put out his foot, and the burglar naturally tripped over it; before he could rise the major had him by the throat.  There was a long, fierce struggle, both being powerful men; at last Swankie was hurled completely through the glass door.  In the fall he disengaged himself from the major, and, leaping up, made for the garden wall, over which he succeeded in clambering before the latter could seize him.  Thus both burglars escaped, and Major Stewart returned to the house half-naked,—­his shirt having been torn off his back,—­and bleeding freely from cuts caused by the glass door.

Just as he re-entered the house, the old cook, under the impression that the cat had got into the pantry, and was smashing the crockery, entered the lobby in her nightdress, shrieked “Mercy on us!” on beholding the major, and fainted dead away.