what I mean," Peter spoke wearily
as he tied the feather with the thread and suspended it from one of the
rafters in the room. "Just sit and watch."

It was not many minutes before a light red tint crept up the feather's
quill, spreading slowly outwards towards the fringed edges. Deeper and
deeper grew the intensity of the color until it reached a pure blood
red.

"Hurry outside," cried Peter. "You can see the goat in its last seconds
of life."

Mirestone hurried after the Dutchman. Jerking at the halter the goat
bleated in agony, prancing up and down frantically. Its eyes grew
horribly bloodshot and finally closed. With a feeble, choking sigh, the
animal dropped over on its side, its legs still twitching spasmodically.
Mirestone bent over the hairy form and examined the head, now wet with
perspiration.

"Nothing can be done for the beast?"

"No." Peter looked on with a touch of pity in his eyes, "Nothing can be
done once the feather has turned red."

As if the death of the kid was their cue, masses of thick thunderheads
turned over with a deep rumbling thunder. The sky became crystal clear,
and a greenish glow could be seen working its way across the horizon.
The sky darkened as the glistening thunderheads now taking on an ominous
coloring warned the farmers of the impending storm.

It was later that evening. Rain drummed against the slate roof of
Peter's house and reverberated through the rooms to where Mirestone and
the Dutchman sat by the fire in silence. Mirestone broke the still
atmosphere by putting forth a question that Peter somehow knew would be
coming sooner or later.

"I wonder how the hex would react on a human being?"

Peter hoped to end the topic by answering him quickly and not beating
around the bush trying to evade the question. "It would kill him
eventually. Maybe not so quick as the goat, but it would kill him."

"What do you mean not as quickly as the goat--do you think it would take
more time on a human?"

"Perhaps. I have heard of cases in which the hex, once it was started,
dragged on for many days."

"I see." Mirestone sat back again thinking to himself.

Peter didn't like this. He wanted to get rid of Mirestone. "Well, you
have your information. I showed you how the hex works. So, why not pay
me and leave?"

Mirestone got up and laughed in the Dutchman's face. Crossing to the
larder, he brought down a bottle, cracking the neck on the beam above,
just as he had done the night