rooster, were scratching harder than ever
in the beds. The captain reached for another missile, but his visitor
stepped forward.

"Please don't," she begged. "Please don't kill them."

"Eh? Why not? They ought to be killed."

"I know it, but I don't want them killed--yet, at any rate. You see,
they are my hens."

"Yours?" The captain straightened up and looked at her. "You don't mean
it?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, I do. They are mine, or my mother's, which is the same thing. I am
dreadfully sorry they got in here. I'll have them out in just a minute.
Oh, yes, I will, really."

Kendrick regarded her doubtfully.

"Well," he said, slowly, "I know it isn't polite to contradict a lady
but if you'll tell me _how_ you are goin' to get 'em out without killin'
'em, I'll be ever so much obliged. You can't drive 'em, I know that."

"I shan't try. Just wait, I'll be right back."

She hurried away, down the path and through the open gate. Captain Sears
Kendrick looked after her. Behind and about him the Fair Harbor hens
clucked and scratched blissfully.

In very little more than the promised minute the young woman returned.
She carried a round wooden receptacle--what Cape Codders used to call a
"two quart measure"--and, as she approached, she shook it. Something
within rattled. The hens, some of them, heard the rattle and ceased
their digging.

"Come, chick, chick! Come, biddy, biddy, biddy!" called the young woman,
rattling the measure. More of the fowl gave up their labors, and looked
and listened. Some even began to follow her. She dipped a hand into the
measure, withdrew it filled with corn, and scattered a few grains in the
path.

"Come, biddy, biddy, biddy!" she said again.

And the biddies came. Forgetting the possibilities of Judah Cahoon's
garden, they rushed headlong upon the golden certainties of those yellow
kernels. The young woman retreated along the path, scattering corn as
she went, and after her scrambled and pecked and squawked the fowl. Even
the sophisticated rooster yielded to temptation and was among the
leaders in the rush. The corn bearer and the flock passed through the
open gate, along the path beneath the Fair Harbor apple trees, out of
sight around the bend. Sears Kendrick was left alone upon the battle
ground, amid the dead and wounded young vegetables.

But he was not left alone long. A few minutes later his visitor
returned. She had evidently hurried, for there was a red spot on each of
he