" CHAPTER XI. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door. Lucy's ears were singing. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian.
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