At last, there was an end to his wait. He heard footsteps, and
Jolly Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and
stopped in front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and
looking into the west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over
the tree-tops. There was a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but
he choked it back. Jolly Roger was strangely quiet, and Peter
could not hear Nada, and as he sniffed, and gulped the lump in his
throat, he seemed to catch the breath of something impending in
the air. Then Jolly Roger came in, and sat down in darkness near
the table, and for a long time Peter kept his eyes fixed on the
shadowy blotch of him there in the gloom, and listened to his
breathing, until he could stand it no longer, and whined.

The sound stirred Jolly Roger. He got up, struck a match--and then
blew the match out, and came and sat down beside Peter, and
stroked him with his hand.

"Peter," he said in a low voice, "I guess we've got a job on our
hands. You began it today--and I've got to finish it. We're goin'
to kill Jed Hawkins!"

Peter snuggled closer.

"Mebby I'm bad, and mebby the law ought to have me," Jolly Roger
went on in the darkness, "but until tonight I never made up my
mind to kill a man. I'm ready--now. If Jed Hawkins hurts her again
we're goin' to kill him! Understand, Pied-Bot?"

He got up, and Peter could hear him undressing. Then he made a