"But where? What place?" The tears again made rivulets on her cheeks. He shook his head. "I dunno." Mrs. Brenner would not give up. "You saw your pa this afternoon, Tobey?" she coached him softly. He nodded. "Where'd you see him?" she breathed. He frowned. "I--I saw pa----" he began, straining to pierce the cloud that covered him. "Blood! Blood!" shrieked old Mrs. Brenner. She half-rose, her head thrust forward on her shriveled neck. Tobey paused, confused. "I dunno," he said. "Did he give you the pretty bright thing? And did he give you the ax--" she paused and repeated the word loudly--"the ax to bring home?" Tobey caught at the word. "The ax?" he cried. "The ax! Ugh! It was all sticky!" He shuddered. "Did pa give you the ax?" But the cloud had settled. Tobey shook his head. "I dunno," he repeated his feeble denial. Munn advanced. "No use, Mrs. Brenner, you see. Tobey, you'll have to come along with us." Even to Tobey's brain some of the strain in the atmosphere must have penetrated, for he drew back. "Naw," he protested sulkily, "I don't want to." Dick Roamer stepped to his side. He laid his hand on Tobey's arm. "Come along," he urged. Mrs. Brenner gave a smothered gasp. Tobey woke to terror. He turned to run. In an instant the men surrounded him. Trapped, he stood still, his head lowered in his shoulders. "Ma!" he screamed suddenly. "Ma! I don't want to go! Ma!" He fell on his knees. Heavy childish sobs racked him. Deserted, terrified, he called upon the only friend he knew. "Ma! Please, Ma!" Munn lifted him up. Dick Roamer helped him, and between them they drew him to the door, his heart-broken calls and cries piercing every corner of the room. They whisked him out of Mrs. Brenner's sight as quickly as they could. The other men piled out of the door, blocking the last vision of her son, but his bleating cries came shrilling back on the foggy air. Mart closed the door. Mrs. Brenner stood where she had been when Tobey had first felt the closing of the trap and had started to run. She looked as though she might have been carved there. Her light breath seemed to do little more than lift her flat chest. Mart turned from the door. His eyes glittered. He advanced upon her hungrily like a huge cat upon an enchanted mouse. "So you thought you'd yelp on me, did you?" he snarled, licking his lips. "Thought you'd put me away, didn't you? Get me behind the bars, eh?" "Blood!" moaned the old woman in the corner. "Blood!" Mart strode to the table, pulling out from the bosom of his shirt a lumpy package wrapped in his handkerchief. He threw it down on the table. It fell heavily with a sharp ringing of coins. "But I fooled you this time! Mart wasn't so dull this time, eh?" He turned toward her again. Between them, disturbed in his resting-place on the table, the big bruised yellow butterfly raised himself on his sweeping wings.