thy and energetic hens were enthusiastically busy in the Cahoon
beds. Their feet were moving like miniature steam shovels and showers of
earth and infant vegetables were moving likewise. Judah had boasted that
the fruits of his planting were "comin' up." If he had seen them at that
moment he would have realized how fast they were coming up.

The sight aroused Captain Kendrick's ire. He was, in a way of speaking,
guardian of that vegetable patch. Judah had not formally appointed him
to that position, but he had gone away and, by the fact of so doing, had
left it in his charge. He felt responsible for its safety.

"Shoo!" shouted the captain and, leaning upon his cane, limped toward
the garden.

"Shoo!" he roared again. The hens paid about as much attention to the
roar as a gang of ditch diggers might pay to the buzz of a mosquito.
Obviously something more drastic than shooing was necessary. The captain
stooped and picked up a stone. He threw the stone and hit a hen. She
rose in the air with a frightened squawk, ran around in a circle, and
then, coming to anchor in a patch of tiny beets, resumed excavating
operations.

Kendrick picked up another stone, a bigger one, and threw that. He
missed the mark this time, but the shot was not entirely without
results; it hit one of Mr. Cahoon's cucumber frames and smashed a pane
to atoms. The crash of glass had the effect of causing some of the fowl
to stop digging and appear nervous. But these were in the minority.

The captain was, by this time, annoyed. He was on the verge of losing
his temper. Beyond the little garden and between the raspberry and
currant bushes he caught a glimpse of the path and the gate through
which he had just come on his way back from the grounds of the Fair
Harbor. That gate he saw, with a twinge of conscience, was wide open.
Obviously he must have neglected to latch it on passing through, it had
swung open, and the hens had taken advantage of the sally port to make
their foray upon Judah's pet vegetables. They were Fair Harbor hens.
Somehow this fact did not tend to deepen Sears Kendrick's affection for
them.

"Shoo! Clear out, you pesky nuisances!" he shouted, and waving his cane,
charged laboriously down upon the fowl. They retreated before him, but
their retreat was strategic. They moved from beets to cabbages, from
cabbages to young corn, from corn to onions. And they scratched and
pecked as they withdrew. Nevertheless, they were withdrawing an