before in an abandoned house, but no
one seemed to understand how he lived. He disappeared for days at a
time, but he seemed always to have money enough to pay his way, although
never any more. And in the village there were dark rumors concerning
him.

Gossip accused him of being a counterfeiter, who made bad money in the
abandoned house he had taken for his own, and that seemed to be the
favorite theory. And whenever chickens were missed, dark looks were cast
at Zara and her father. He looked like a gypsy, and he would never
answer questions about himself. That was enough to condemn him.

Bessie finished her churning quickly, and then went back, hoping either
to make Jake relent or find some way of releasing the prisoner in the
woodshed. But she could see no sign of Jake. The summer afternoon had
become dark. In the west heavy black clouds were forming, and as Bessie
looked about it grew darker and darker. Evidently a thunder shower was
approaching. That meant that Maw Hoover would hurry home. If she was to
help Zara she must make haste.

Jake, it seemed, had the only key that would open the padlock and
Bessie, though she knew that she would be punished for it, determined to
try to break the lock with a stone. She told Zara what she meant to do,
and set to work. It was hard work, but her fingers were willing, and
Zara's frightened pleading, as the thunder began to roar, and flashes of
lightning came to her through the cracks in the woodshed, urged her on.
And then, just as she was on the verge of success, she heard Jake's
coarse laugh in her ear. "Look out!" he shouted.

He stood in the kitchen door, and, as she turned, something fell,
hissing, at her feet. She started back, terrified. Jake laughed, and
threw another burning stick at her. He had taken a shovelful of embers
from the fire, and now he tossed them at her so that she had to dance
about to escape the sparks. It was a dangerous game, but one that Jake
loved to play. He knew that Bessie was afraid of fire, and he had often
teased her in that fashion. But suddenly Bessie shrieked in real terror.
As yet, though the approaching storm blackened the sky, there was no
rain. But the wind was blowing almost a gale, and Bessie saw a little
streamer of flame run up the side of the woodshed.

"The shed's on fire! You've set it on fire!" she shrieked. "Quick--give
me that key!"

Jake, really frightened then, ran toward her with the key in his hand.

"Get some wat