-you wretched deformity."

The boy cowered back. His curious mind was filled with hatred, but his
fear was all-mastering. Will suddenly reached forward and dragged him
further into the feeble rays of the candle-light.

"Come here, you young demon!" he cried. "You're not going to escape
punishment because of your sister. You haven't got her here to protect
you. You've got a man to deal with. Do you understand, eh? A man."

"A devil," Elia muttered, his eyes gleaming.

"Well, at this moment, perhaps, a devil!" Will retorted, giving the
boy's arm a cruel twist. "How's that?" he inquired, as the boy gave
one of those curious cries of pain of his, which had so much likeness
to an animal's yelp.

"Oh, that's nothing to what you're going to get," his persecutor went
on. "We do the same here to boys who kill chickens as we do to those
who kill and steal cattle. We hang 'em, Elia, we hang 'em. How would
you like to be hanged?"

Will watched the working features. He saw and appreciated the terror
he was causing, the suffering. But he could draw no further retort.

As a matter of fact he had no definite idea yet as to what he should
do with his captive. He was Eve's brother, but that did not influence
him. He probably disliked the boy all the more for it, because one day
he would be his brother, and he knew that Elia came before all else in
the world in Eve's thoughts. His jealousy and hatred were well
blended, and, in a man of his mind, this was a dangerous combination.

He released his hold on his captive and looked at his bleeding arm.
The boy's teeth had left an ugly wound, and the blood was flowing
freely. He turned his eyes again to Elia's face and a devil lurked in
them.

"I've a good mind to thrash you, you piece of deformity!" he cried
angrily. And he made a move as though to fulfil his threat.

Then that cruel grin gathered round his lips again.

"That's a good idea," he said. "Thrash you for myself, and hand you
over to those others, after."

But his words had not the effect which his physical force had. Perhaps
the boy, with that peculiar twist he possessed, was reading the
indecision, the uncertainty in his captor's mind. Anyway, the terror
in his eyes was becoming less, and a defiant light was taking its
place. But Will could see none of this, and he went on.

"I'd hate to be handed over to the boys for hanging----"

Elia suddenly shook his head.

"There's no hangin'!" he cried, "and you know it. Yo