Eben stood for a few minutes staring through the darkness down the road.
"I wonder if he'll go to Island Lake?" he mused. "If he does, Gabe needn't go, an' so he won't want me. I'd rather be hidin' around in the bushes to see the fun. I'd like to see John an' Randall in a stand-up fight, I surely would. But mebbe it'd be better fer John to go back to the island an' not find his sweetheart. Say, it 'ud be great to watch him ramp an' tear around."
A cry of pain and fright from the house nearby startled him. Wheeling sharply around, he saw that the front door was open and the form of a woman was falling down the rickety steps. Surprised beyond measure, Eben hurried forward until he reached the prostrate woman. She was moaning and sobbing bitterly, and making no effort to rise.
"What's the matter?" Eben asked, bending over her. "Are ye hurt?"
"Yes, yes," the woman wailed. "He hit me, and kicked me out of the house."
"Who did?" Eben straightened himself up, while his hands clenched hard.
"Who hit ye?"
"Gabe, of course. But don't go in; he might kill you. He's in a terrible rage."
With a bound Eben was through the door and into the house. The room was a sight to behold. Chairs and tables were upset, broken dishes were lying on the floor, and several frightened, half-dressed children were huddled in one corner. In the middle of the room stood the master of the house, his moon-like face red with anger. He retreated a few steps as Eben appeared.
"Did you do that?" the latter demanded, shaking his right fist menacingly before Grimsby.
"Yes I did," was the surly reply. "And it's none of your d—— business what I do in my own house. Get out of this."