.

He was approaching his hut from the back. The place was in darkness,
and he groped in his pockets for matches. He had to pass the old
hen-roost, which, in their early days in Barnriff, had kept him and
Jim supplied with fresh eggs. As he drew abreast of this he suddenly
halted and stood listening. There was a commotion going on inside, and
it startled him. He could hear the flapping of wings, the scuffling
and clucking of the frightened hens.

For the moment he thought of the coyote, that thieving scavenger of
the prairie which is ever on the prowl at night. But the next instant
he remembered the chicken killing going on in the village. He ran to
the door of the roost and flung it wide open. Without waiting for a
light he stooped down and made his way in. And that act of stooping
probably saved his life. Something whistled over his bent body,
splitting the air like a well-swung sword. He knew instinctively it
was a knife aimed at him. But the next moment he had grappled with
his assailant, and held him fast in his two strong arms.

From that moment there was no further struggle. As he dragged his
prisoner out he wondered. Then, in a moment, his wonder passed, as he
felt a set of sharp, strong human teeth fasten themselves upon the
flesh of his forearm. He dropped his hold and with his free hand
seized his captive by the throat and choked him until the teeth
released their grip.

To rush his prisoner along before him to the door of the hut and
thrust him inside was curiously easy. There was no resistance or
struggle for freedom. The captive seemed even anxious to avoid all
further effort. Nor was there a word spoken until Will had struck a
match and lit the guttered candle stuck in the neck of a whiskey
bottle. Then, with the revealing light, he uttered an exclamation of
blank astonishment.

Elia, Eve's brother, stood cowering before him with his usually mild
eyes filled with such a glare of abject terror that it might well have
inspired pity in the hardest heart.

But Will was not given to pity. The boy's terror meant nothing to him.
All he remembered was his unutterable dislike of the boy, and his
satisfaction at having caught the chicken-killer of Barnriff. And, to
judge by the boy's blood-stained hands, in the thick of his fell
work.

"So, I've caught you, my lad, have I?" he said, with a cold grin of
appreciation. "It's you who spend your time killing the chickens?
Well, you're going to pay for it, you-