“Fly up and peck his eye out, Pete!” he called, cheerily.

It is not likely that Peter understood this adjuration, notwithstanding Cap’n Sproul’s gloomy convictions on that score in the past.  But, apparently having tested the courage of this enemy, he changed his tactics, leaped, and flew at Cap’n Kidd with spurring feet.

Then it happened!

It happened almost before the little group of spectators could gasp.

Cap’n Kidd threw himself back on the bristling spines of his tail, both claws off the floor.  Peter’s spurring feet met only empty air, and he fell on the foe.

Foe’s splay claws grabbed him around the neck and clutched him like a vise, shutting off his last, startled squawk.  Then Cap’n Kidd darted forward that knobby head with its ugly beak, and tore off Peter’s caput with one mighty wrench.

“’Tain’t fair!  It’s jest as I said it was!  ’Tain’t square!” screamed Reeves.

But Hiram strode forward, snapping authoritative fingers under Wixon’s nose.  “Hand me that money!” he gritted, and Wixon, his eyes on the unhappy bird writhing in Cap’n Kidd’s wicked grasp, made no demur.  The showman took it, even as the maddened Reeves was clutching for the packet, tucked it into his breast pocket, and drove the second selectman back with a mighty thrust of his arm.  The selectman stumbled over the combatants and sat down with a shock that clicked his teeth.  Cap’n Kidd fled from under, and flew to a high beam.

“He ain’t a hen!” squalled Reeves.

At that moment the barn door was opened from the outside, and through this exit Cap’n Kidd flapped with hoarse cries, whether of triumph or fright no one could say.

The lanterns’ light shone on Widow Sidenia Pike, her face white from the scare “Cap’n Kidd’s” rush past her head had given her, but with determination written large in her features.

She gazed long at Reeves, sitting on the floor beside the defunct rooster.  She pointed an accusatory finger at it.

“Mr. Reeves,” she said, “you’ve been lyin’ to me two weeks, tryin’ to buy that rooster that I wouldn’t sell no more’n I’d sell my first husband’s gravestun’.  And when you couldn’t git it by lyin’, you stole it off’m the roost to-night.  And to make sure there won’t be any more lies, I’ve followed you right here to find out the truth.  Now what does this mean?”

There was a soulful pause.

“Lie in small things, lie in big!” she snapped.  “I reckon I’ve found ye out for a missabul thing!”

Hiram, standing back in the shadows, nudged Cap’n Sproul beside him, and wagged his head toward the open door.  They went out on tiptoe.

“If he wants to lie some more, our bein’ round might embarrass him,” whispered Hiram.  “I never like to embarrass a man when he’s down—­and—­and her eyes was so much on Reeves and the rooster I don’t believe she noticed us.  And what she don’t know won’t hurt her none.  But”—­he yawned—­“I shouldn’t be a mite surprised if another one of Bat Reeves’s engagements was busted in this town.  He don’t seem to have no luck at all in marryin’ farms with the wimmen throwed in.”  The Cap’n didn’t appear interested in Reeves’s troubles.  His eyes were searching the dim heavens.