"Yo'-all take keer," warned Maria. "I ben a-tellin' yo' right along yo'll fling one too many in thet bog an--" Peter paused and fixed his eyes upon her. "Air yo'-all a-goin' ter shet up?" he asked. "Ef yo' hain't, I'll fling yo' in with her, d' yo' hyar?" Maria heard. Without another word she returned to her cooking. Grimes strode toward the gate. Before destroying the child it would be well to find out from Bailey and Swazey whether or not the report was true that the ransom was not going to be paid. He knew where the two were in hiding. It was he who had directed them to the old, ruined cobble-stone house in which they were now secreted. He would walk there in a few minutes after he reached the pike. But Ambrose, who had heard the conversation between his parents, had scudded from the kitchen chortling with glee. He had a standing grudge against Mollie, drat her! She fought him off when he tried to kiss her, and his paw had cuffed him because he bellowed and had pushed him backwards and shoved his face right into the molasses on the bread he was eating! Now, he'd fix her--now, he'd fix her! The fat, chuckle-headed moron kept singing the words over as he betook himself in the direction of the farm outbuildings in search of Mollie and the beautiful baby with which she was so enraptured. "Haw, haw, haw!" he guffawed at the mere thought of what Mollie would say and do when she realized his purpose. He had already made her lose her supper, and the children, too. Served her right. They were his paw's potatoes, anyhow. Mollie had stuffed her clothes with them. If she hadn't slapped him he wouldn't have told. When she fought and kicked him the way she did, anybody would get mad. He laughed again at the memory of the picture Mollie had made when his maw shook her and the potatoes came rolling out from all parts of her clothing. And how mad his paw was when he came and saw the potatoes! Of course he wouldn't let her have any supper after that--not she nor any of the children. Still chuckling over the inefficiency of poor Mollie's pleas that she alone be punished and not the children, Ambrose waddled about in search of his prey. Ah, there they were! Mollie had stood little Doris on the ground for a minute. It was only a minute but that minute sufficed for Ambrose. "Haw, haw, haw!" he guffawed again as he jerked the unsuspecting baby girl up in his murderous embrace and tore with her toward the bog. "Oh, oh, Mollie--Oh, look!" shrieked the children who had seen the performance. Mollie looked, then with a scream that resounded to every part of the farm confines, she flew to the rescue of her beloved. There was cause, indeed, for Harris Wayne to fear for his baby daughter's safety. Her life now hung not by a thread but by the speed of Mollie's small, naked feet and the strength of her brown young arms.