"Now then--are you going to hit me?" "I intend to." Then the old man and his wife fell to fighting, clawing and battering each other, the woman screaming out that she would have a baby, the man that she should not. Iver had managed to enter. The woman snatched at the child, the man wrenched it away from her. The boy was fain to escape outside and fly from the house with the child lest the babe should be torn in pieces between them. He knew old Cheel and his wife well by repute--for a couple ever quarrelling. He now made his way to another house, one occupied by settlers of another family. There were here some sturdy sons and daughters. When Iver had entered with the babe in his arms and had told his tale, the young people were full of excitement. "Bill," said one of the lads to his brother, "I say! This is news. I'm off to see." "I'll go along wi' you, Joe." "How did they kill him?" asked one of the girls. "Did they punch him on the head?" "Or cut his throat?" asked Bill. "Joe!" called one of the girls, "I'll light the lantern, and we'll all go." "Aye!" said the father, "these sort o' things don't happen but once in a lifetime." "I wouldn't be out of seeing it for nuthin'," said the mother. "Did he die sudden like or take a long time about it?" "I suppose they'll inquitch him," said one of the girls. "There'll be some hanging come o' this," said one of the boys. "Oh, my! There will be goings on," said the mother. "Dear life, I may never have such a chance again. Stay for me, Betsy Anne. I'm going to put on my clogs." "Mother, I ain't agoing to wait for your clogs." "Why not? He won't run away." "And the baby?" asked Iver. "Oh, bother the baby. We want to see the dead man." "I wonder, now, where they'll take him to?" asked the mother. "Shall we have him here?" "I don't mind," said the father. "Then he'll be inquitched here; but I don't want no baby." "Nor do I nuther," said the woman. "Stay a moment, Betsy Anne! I'm coming. Oh, my! whatever have I done to my stocking, it's tore right across." "Take the child to Bideabout," said one young man, "we want no babies here, but we'll have the corpse, and welcome. Folks will come and make a stir about that. But we won't have no babies. Take that child back where you found it." "Babies!" said another, scornfully, "they come thick as blackberries, and bitter as sloes. But corpses--and they o' murdered men--them's coorosities." "But the baby?" again asked the boy. CHAPTER V. MEHETABEL. Iver stood in the open air with the child in his arms. He was perplexed. What should be done with it? He would have rubbed his head, to rub an idea into it, had not both his arms been engaged.