hill, only to find that Screech Owl had not returned. But
one day, just at dusk, as he appeared before the hut, he saw the
flickering of a candle. He did not wait to knock, but entered, and found
Scraggy stretched out on the old bed. She looked up as if she had
expected him, noted his dark face, and lowered her head again.

"Black Pussy's gone, Lem. I've got a cold settin' on me here," she
whispered, wheezing as she laid her hand on her chest.

"I hope it'll kill ye!" grunted Lem. "What did you leave the toolhouse
fer, when I told ye to stay?"

"What toolhouse, Lemmy?" The dazed eyes looked up at him in surprise.

"Don't try none of yer guff on me. I want to know who ye went to see in
Tarrytown, and who the man was that throwed ye over the fence, and then
lugged ye off to that vault?"

Scraggy sat up painfully.

"I wasn't throwed over no fence."

"Ye was, 'cause I seed the man when he done it. I wish now that I'd a
gone and settled with him. Who was he, Screechy?"

"I dunno," she answered.

Lem bent over her, his eyes blazing with wrath.

"Ye want to git yer batty head a workin' damn quick," he shouted, "or
I'll slit yer throat with this!" The rusty hook was thrust near the
thin, drawn face.

"I can't think tonight," muttered Screech Owl, "'cause the bats be a
runnin' 'bout in my head. When I think, I'll tell ye, Lemmy."

"Where be that boy?" demanded Lem.

Scraggy shook her head. Every time she thought of Lem's questions, there
was an infernal tapping of unnumbered winged creatures at the walls of
her brain.

"There ain't no boy that I knows of," she said listlessly, sinking down
again. "And ye wouldn't slit my neck when I ain't done nothin', would
ye, Lemmy?"

"Ye has done somethin'," growled Lem. "Ye has kep' that brat from me
these years past, and now he's big 'nough I'm goin' to have him! Ye
hear?" Every word he uttered came forth with effort. The red mark under
his chin moved relentlessly, preventing him from speaking with
clearness.

Scraggy writhed beneath the tightening grasp of the man's wet fingers.

"I'll choke ye to death!" Lem gasped, between throaty convulsions.

"Lemmy, Lemmy dear--"

Another twist of Lem's fingers, and the woman sank back unconscious. Lem
shook her roughly.

"Scraggy, Scraggy!" he cried wildly. "Set up! I Want to talk to ye! Set
up!"

The silence in the gloomy hut, the whiteness of the seemingly dead
woman, filled Lem with superstitious dread. He grasped his