'Can they have been stolen?'
'I reckon that is just about it.'
'Stolen!' exclaimed Mehalah, her blood flashing to her face and darkening cheek and brow. 'Do you mean to tell me that some scoundrel has been here in the night, and carried off four of our ewes?'
Abraham shrugged his shoulders; 'Mud tells tales at times.'
Mehalah trembled with anger.
'Some boat was here last night, and night afore, and the keel marks remain. I saw them, and I saw footprints of sheep too, near them.'
'When?'
'The tide is up, and you can't see. Near the Burnt Hill.'
'Abraham, this is not to be borne.'
'Who is to help it?'