ellow moon had risen from behind
the glorious mountain peaks surrounding their little primitive West
Virginia home, and he and his favorite sister wandered out together into
the soft, pine-scented night. Then, however, their thoughts naturally
reverted to the mysterious disappearance, and the girl asked somewhat
curiously, "So, Washington Beauregard, you won't allow that the 'ornery'
thief what stole our pet come on two legs?"

"No, Monny, nor on four legs nuther," answered her brother. "Though I
didn't want to say much afore the chillen. But I've been a-studyin' over
this matter, and I begin to fear that he comes on wings."

"On wings! Law, then, he must be a bird! But I never saw a hawk or even
an eagle big and strong enough to tote off a half-grown sheep like
Cotton Ball. Strikes me it's dumb foolishness you're talkin', Wash."

"Waal, I dunno about that. Hevn't you heard the old hunters, on winter
nights, tell of a curisome-winged thing that once made its nest over
yonder on Snaggle Tooth?" and the youth pointed to a high, dark, jagged
crag silhouetted against the purplish-blue sky. "It did a power of
mischief in this neighborhood, totin' off chickens 'n' dogs 'n' sheep,
and some say even tacklin' a calf. 'Twas a cute old fowl, so nobody
could git a crack at it; but was up to so much devilment, that they
called it the Demon of Snaggle-Tooth Rock."

"Oh, yaas, I've heard o' that often; but it was years ago, before you or
I were born, an' the critter hasn't been raound here since."

"That's so; but what has been kin be; and the other day Tim Harkins tole
me a yarn about jest sech a bird havin' been seen lately over Stonycliff
way. A monstrous chap, something like a golden eagle, only bigger an'
wickeder-lookin', with a more crooked beak, an' feathers of a dirty
brownish-gray. At the time I thought Tim was jest a-humbuggin', but
after the little beast disappeared so unaccountable like, I begun to
reckon it must be true, sure enough."

"Oh, Wash, I can't bear to think of it!" and Monny's face looked quite
pale in the moonlight. "Poor, dear little Cotton Ball! Fancy that demon
and his mate tearing her limb from limb. It 'most breaks my heart." And
long after the girl had climbed the ladder leading to the low attic
under the clapboard roof, which she had shared with the younger children
ever since their mother's death one year before, she lingered at the
tiny two-paned window gazing off at the peaceful-seeming hills,