“Oh, Perez! you don't s'pose 'tis the fox, do you?”
“Yes, MA'AM, I do! Where's the gun?”
“There 'tis, behind the door, but there ain't a mite of shot in the house. Abner's been goin' to fetch some from the store for I don't know how long, but he's always forgot it.”
“Never mind. I'll pound the critter with the butt. Come quick, and bring a lamp.”
The noise in the henyard continued, and when they opened the door it was louder than ever.
“He's in the henhouse,” whispered Miss Patience. “He must have gone in that hole at the side that had the loose board over it.”
“All right,” murmured the Captain. “You go 'round with the lamp and open the door. That 'll scare him, and I'll stand at the hole and thump him when he comes out.”
So, shielding the lamp with her apron, the guardian of Mrs. Mayo's outraged Leghorns tiptoed around to the henhouse door, while Captain Perez, brandishing the gun like a club, took up his stand by the hole at the side.
Without the lamp the darkness was pitchy. The Captain, stooping down to watch, saw something coming out of the hole—something that was alive and moved. He swung the gun above his head, and, bringing it down with all his might, knocked into eternal oblivion the little life remaining in the finest Leghorn rooster.
“Consarn it!” yelled the executioner, stooping and laying his hand on the victim, “I've killed a hen!”