Sunday, for a "protracted meeting" was in
progress, service was held every day, and the congregation would return
to-morrow, which was Thursday.

His philosophy, however, was short-lived, for the sudden lightning rent
the clouds, and a terrific peal of thunder echoed among the cliffs.

"The storm air a-comin' up the mounting!" he exclaimed, in vivacious
protest. "An' ef this brief wind war ter whurl the old church-house
off'n the bluff an' down inter the valley whar-r--would--I--be?"

All at once the porch creaked beneath a heavy tread. A clumsy hand was
fumbling at the door. "Strike a light," said a gruff voice without.

As a lantern was thrust in, Jim was about to speak, but the words froze
upon his lips for fear when a man strode heavily over the threshold and
he caught the expression of his face.

It was an evil face, red and bloated and brutish. He had small,
malicious, twinkling eyes, and a shock of sandy hair. A suit of
copper-colored jeans hung loosely on his tall, lank frame, and when he
placed the lantern on a bench and stretched out both arms as if he were
tired, he showed that his left hand was maimed,--the thumb had been cut
off at the first joint.

A thickset, short, swaggering man tramped in after him.

"Waal, Amos Brierwood," he said, "it's safes' fur us ter part. We
oughter be fur enough from hyar by daybreak. Divide that thar traveler's
money--hey?"

They carefully closed the rude shutters, barred the door, and sat down
on the "mourners' bench," neither having noticed the small boy at the
other end of the room.

Poor Jim, his arms akimbo and half-covered by his comforter, stuck to
the wall like a plaid bat,--if such a natural curiosity is
imaginable,--feverishly hoping that the men might go without seeing him
at all.

For surely no human creature could be more abhorrent, more incredibly
odious of aspect, than Amos Brierwood as he sat there, his red, brutish
face redder still with a malign pleasure, his malicious eyes gloating
over the rolls of money which he drew from a pocket-book stolen from
some waylaid traveler, snapping his fingers in exultation when the
amount of the bills exceeded his expectation.

The leaves without were fitfully astir, and once the porch creaked
suddenly. Brierwood glanced at the door sharply,--even fearfully,--his
hand motionless on the rolls of money.

"Only the wind, Amos, only the wind!" said the short, stout man
impatiently.

But he, himself, was disquiet