lways managed to clear any bones away before Mac returned from town
or came up from the barn and she was thankful he seemed as yet unaware
of the brown dog's hunting nature.

Now it appeared she'd have to cover up for the dog once again and she
opened the door. Dobie was under a bush half way across the barn yard,
his kill still in his mouth. He was circling around, and she knew
he'd soon be on his stomach enjoying his feast.

[Illustration]

"Dobie!" she called in a low voice, hoping it would not carry to the
barn.

Dobie's ears came up. He looked her way.

"Dobie!... Come here, Dobie!"

The dog was undecided, looking at her, unmoving for a moment. Then his
tail started flicking, he lowered his head and came up to her.

Then she saw what he had in his mouth and her blood stopped and only a
great effort on the part of her heart started it going again.

It was a human hand, blood still oozing from the severed wrist.

"_Dobie!_"

The way she said it, the way she looked--something made the dog drop
the hand. It fell to the ground, limp, palm down.

Dobie, head hung, tail down, ventured forward, nuzzled her hand. But
Alice could not tear her eyes from the thing on the cold ground. She
had cared for Dobie like a baby ever since someone dropped him off
out in the country and she had adopted the name Dobie because a
passing child had called him that and it seemed like a good name ...
and she loved him.

But this, this hand. That was too much.

She looked around, saw a milk pail, put it open end down over the hand
and carried two large rocks from the garden border to put on top to
secure it. She didn't want it to be gone when she brought Mac back to
see it.

She heard her ring on the telephone--rather early for Mrs. Swearingen
or Mrs. Abbey wasn't it?--but ignored it. There was something else she
had to do and do quickly. For the first time in months she felt
thankful for Mac's presence. Surely he would know what to do. Though
it was cold, she was unmindful of the fact that she did not wear a
coat as she hurried to the barn; she was thinking instead that perhaps
she should have answered the phone in case it might have been someone
other than her women friends, possibly something in connection with
the severed hand. She shuddered as she remembered how it had looked.

Alice found Mac in the loft. He had a forkful of hay over the opening
when he saw her below. He stopped, narrowed his eyes before he slowly
brou