“They caught him up in the Bunganuck woods,” explained the man, replying to rapid questions. “Purday took him and done a good job at it. And the whole pack and possy of ’em was draggleder’n wet mushrats. They’re dryin’ Klebe off down in the s’lectmen’s office now, and I reckon they’ll keep him here to-night and take him to jail ter-morrer.” “Has he been told about the children?” “Yas, had to tell him. He’s been fightin’ like a cattymaran ever since he was took, and Purday got tuckered out and told him so’s to break his sperit. And it done it quick, now, I can tell ye!” “Northin’ from outside?” The question was put with a glance seaward and a mournful inflection of the voice, as though with certainty of the worst. “Northin’.” The reply was equally mournful. The little group lowered their heads and sat in silence as at a funeral. In the hush the door of the inner room opened, and Squire Phin came into the kitchen. “Have you brought news?” he asked anxiously, putting his hand on the shoulder of the new arrival. The man repeated his story. While the Squire stood there with head down, pondering, there was a commotion in the other room. Again the door opened, and a comely woman whose features were twisted by grief and suffering appeared. A cloth was wrapped around her forehead, and her lips were swollen from sobbing. Though Sylvena Willard strove with all her gentle strength to restrain her, the woman tore away and came into the kitchen. “Bring me my children,” she cried, staring from one to the other with eyes glazed and sunken by woe. “Where’s Klebe? Send him after the children. Something has happened. What is it? Don’t drive me mad, neighbours! What is it?” Her voice rose in a shriek. She ran first to one man and then to another-, clasping her thin hands around their arms. The men were unresponsive and embarrassed. Hysteria was upon her. Squire Phin, with his strong hands and his comforting words, was at last able to draw her away toward the inner room. “Oh, Phineas Look,” she wailed, “tell me where my babies are.” “They are in God’s hands, child,” he replied, his heart in his tones. “Take courage. I am goin’ away now to bring some one. Take courage.” While she stared at him with frightened, puzzled gaze he put her into Sylvena Willard’s arms. “Do your best with her, Sylvie, until I come back,” he whispered. “I am going to get Kleber. The awful load that has come upon this household is one that husband and wife should bear together. Do your best with her, little woman! For I shall be gone a bit of a while. I am going to tell your brother a story that he needs to hear.” He hurried away. During the long hour that elapsed the stricken woman sat in the kitchen close by the outer door, motionless and speechless, her eyes fixed on the latch. All of Sylvena’s coaxings could not draw her back to the inner room.