"Him an' Layunie'd went. I didn't git thar afore th' train fer th' no'th pulled out. Th' gal said her Pappy 'lowed hit would be all right fer ter leave th' least one, bein' es she war a-comin' ter keer fer him." "Shucks!" ejaculated Maria. "Hit'll take more'n her ter keer fer him like he is now. Ef he gits a fever ter-night----" A commotion out in the yard interrupted the speaker. Ambrose was yelling as if he were being killed. Vigorous slaps sounded between the yells. Interpreted with the yells came Cynthy's shrill tones. "I'll larn yo' ter fling rocks et me, yo' mis'ble pole-cat. Co'se I killed th' ole snake. Think I want yo' racin' atter me that-a-way? Ef yo'r Mammy doan larn yo' nawthin' I'll show yo' whut happens ter shirt-tail young-uns in Kaintucky." They reached the house together, the fat, overgrown Ambrose incoherent; the mountain girl volubly expressing her resentment of the treatment she had received at the hands of the youngster. "He hit me with a rock----" she commenced, shrilly, as she reached the door. "Mammy, Mammy," bawled Ambrose. But as Maria, without rising from her chair, reached forth her arms to draw her son toward her, Peter raised his hand and slapped Cynthy in the face with such force that the little girl reeled backward down the step and into the yard. "Mebbe thet'll larn yo' sumpin," he remarked fiercely. Then, as Cynthy staggered to her feet, "None o' yer sass, now. Git out ter th' shed whar yo' belong. G'wan. Yo' too," he added, catching sight of Mollie, standing trembling just within the door. She had been keeping as still as possible fearing to attract his attention by passing him after she had finished with the dishes. Now, at his words, she darted by like a flash and grasped Cynthy by the hand. "Shall we take the baby!" she asked, bravely, feeling that a safe distance separated her from the ogre. "Do we-all hev ter sleep in th' barn?" gasped Cynthy, dully comprehending what it all meant. "I cain't take keer o' Buddy lessen I'm in th' house." Peter rose to his feet. He took one writhing step in their direction. The look in his face was murderous. "Yo' heerd whut I said. Air yo' goin' ter move er hev I got ter giv yo' sumpin' ter make yo'?" he thundered. "But Buddy--my little brother----" protested Cynthy, anger mingling with her sobs. Mollie, remembering the terrible punishment that had been meted out to Splutters the morning after his arrival, tugged frantically at Cynthy's dress. Not wanting to desert the barefoot little stranger she made every effort to drag her to safety. "Come, come," she whispered. "He'll kill you. He will. He'll kill you." The ogre was advancing. His great arm was raised. Another instant and he would be upon them. Mollie was desperate. She gave another tug at Cynthy's dress, then turned and ran with all her might in the direction of the barn, Cynthy following.