Half panicky, I dashed across the street and into the cellar, where I hid amongst the junk at the end farthest from the door. In a half hour the town was on fire with excitement. The store was opened and I heard loud voices and the tramp of many feet above me. There was a clattering of horses’ hoofs in the street, and I knew the hue and cry was on. I burrowed deeper into boxes and bales, prepared for a long wait.

When daylight came I saw a pair of stairs leading up to a trapdoor in the store floor. There was much coming and going all day, and the steady hum of voices. I strained my ears, but couldn’t make head or tail of the talk. I put in a long, hard day, and when night came and the store was closed I was famished for food and water. All day I had been debating in my mind whether I should sneak out at dark and try to hike away, or hold down the cellar for another twenty-four hours. I had just decided to go out and chance it when I heard the cellar doors banged down from the outside, then the click of a padlock. I was locked in.