“Your brother and Sylvene has sort of took charge there to Klebe’s house,” the deputy went on. “The old Judge ‘come to’ ’fore I left the village. But the doc says Myry is in a turrible bad way with the tunk she got. It won’t be none surprisin’ if murder comes out of it. It’s a glister for the Willard fam’ly, that’s what it is!” He shifted his club to the other hand and started over the fence. “Come along, Bragg,” he commanded. “It’s more’n li’ble that he kept to the Bunganuck ridge.” Hiram had no desire to ask further questions. He lashed his hors’e and rattled away toward the village at his best speed. It had been one of those unseasonably hot May days, humid and sweltering, with thunder-heads boiling above the horizon and a menace in the steaming quietness of nature. When Hiram turned in at the yard of the Look place the low sun was dipping behind an ominously purple curtain in the west, and there was a jarring growl of thunder behind the hills. His brother was not at home. “He may need old Hime for somethin’ or other,” he muttered as “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed into the barn leading the horse. “It ain’t especially the place for me to go buttin’ in, under the circumstances, but I’m a right-hand man for Phin when he needs help, and he knows it now.” He hurried away down the street, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder at the purple-black curtain of cloud. “It looks as though it was goin’ to be a ripper,” he commented. In the yard of the Kleber Willard place little groups of villagers were talking in hushed tones. “How be they now inside there, Uncle Buck?” inquired Hiram, solicitously. “Them that’s still inside is in a mighty bad way,” replied the old man, grimly. He added yet more grimly, “And them that’s outside is most likely wuss off than that.” “Them that’s outside!” repeated Hiram, smartly. “That’s what I said. After the Judge come round into his senses they thought it was all right to leave him on the sofy till they got ready to take him home, and in the gen’ral confusion here he’s got away. Took both of Klebe’s young ones with him, the little boy and the little girl, and Lord only knows where he’s got to. I tell ye ’twa’n’t safe to leave him alone! An old man with the bang he got ’side of the head ain’t gittin’ back into his right senses all in a minit.” “What are you standin’ around here for, all of ye?” indignantly demanded Hiram, raising his voice. “Why ain’t you out tryin’ to find the lost?” “Why ain’t _you?_” retorted Uncle Lysimachus. “There’s fifty gone after ’em already and the ro’d is still open. They didn’t take it with ’em.” The Squire had heard his brother’s voice in the yard and he came to the door, his face haggard and grief-stricken. “It’s an awful thing, brother,” he murmured when Hiram hastened to him. “Myra is still insensible and the doctor fears a fracture of the skull. But my worst fear now is for Judge Willard and the children.” He cast a troubled look at the sky.