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 eyes staring, his voice paralyzed in his throat. Titus Burke cackled again. “I heard you was bein’ took care of,” he said fawningly, “so I waited a spell till things quieted down ’fore comin’ after you…. Then I got sort of lonesome, and besides I got a use for you, so I come to git you.”

Angus gave back a step, but his father strode forward and clutched his arm roughly. “None of that, young feller…. So you hain’t glad to see your pa, eh? I’ll make ye glad to see him when I git time, see if I don’t. Gittin’ proud, eh? I’ll proud ye, I will.” He grinned evilly. “Come on,” he ordered.

“I ain’t comin’,” Angus panted, struggling to break free. “I’m a-goin’ back to him…. I hain’t a-comin’ with you.”

“You hain’t, hain’t you? We’ll see after that, young feller…. Now you come a-hustlin’.” He shifted his grip from Angus’s arm to his collar and began to propel the boy across the road and into the woods. Lydia screamed.

“Shet up,” barked Titus.

“I sha’n’t,” she snapped, and screamed again.

Titus Burke glowered at her venomously, half turned, but thought better of it, and commenced to drag Angus away—but around a turn of the road thirty feet away came panting Jake Schwartz. He bawled to Titus to let go of that