To this end came dark-eyed Abel to the Mill at an hour when he should have been at his dinner.  Ere long his activities might be curtailed, for he was threatened with a preparatory school in the autumn; but before that happened, the Red Hand must be set in certain high places, and the hackling shop of Levi Baggs was first among them.

Abel wore knickerbockers and his feet and legs were bare, for he had just waded across the river beyond the Mill, and meant to retreat by the same road.  He had hidden in a may bush till the people were all gone to their meal, and then crossed the stream into the works.  That the door of the hackler’s would be open he did not expect, for Levi locked it when he went home; but there was a little window, and Abel, who had a theory that where his head could go, his body could follow, believed that by the window it would be possible to make his entrance.  The contrary of what he expected happened, however, for the window was shut and the door on the latch.  Fate willed that on the very day of Abel’s attack, Mr. Baggs should be spending the dinner-hour in his shop.  His sister, who looked after him, was from home until the evening, and Levi had brought his dinner to the works.  He was eating it when the boy very cautiously opened the door, and since Mr. Baggs sat exactly behind the door, this action served to conceal him.  The intruder therefore thought the place empty, and proceeded with his operations while Levi made no sound, but watched him.

Taking a piece of chalk from his pocket Abel wrote the words of terror, ‘The Red Hand has been here,’ and set down the circle and cross.  Then he picked up one of the bright stricks, that lay beside the hackling board, and was just about to depart in triumph, when Mr. Baggs banged the door and revealed himself.

Thus discomfited, Abel grew pale and then flushed.  Mr. Baggs was a very big and strong man and the culprit knew that he must now prepare for the pangs that attended failure.  But he bore pain well.  He had been operated upon for faulty tendons when he was five and proved a Spartan patient.  He stood now waiting for Mr. Baggs.  Other victims had reported that it was Levi’s custom to use a strap from his own waist when he beat a boy, and Abel, even at this tense moment, wondered whether he would now do so.

“It’s you, is it?” said Mr. Baggs.  “And the Red Hand has been here, has it?  And perhaps the red something else will go away from here.  You’re a darned young thief—­that’s what you are.”

“I ain’t yet,” argued Abel.  His voice fluttered, for his heart was beating very fast.

“You’re as good, however, for you was going to take my strick.  The will was there, though I prevented the deed.”

“I had to show the Band as I’d been here.”

“Why did you come?  What sense is there to it?”

Abel regarded Mr. Baggs doubtfully and did not reply.

“Just to show you’re a bit out of the common, perhaps?”