Chapter 16: Sunday the Eighteenth

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​⁠I spent an hour to-day trying to shoot a hen-hawk that's been hovering about the shack all afternoon. He's after my chickens, and as new-laid eggs are worth more than Browning to a homesteader, I got out my duck-gun. It gave me a feeling of impending evil, having that huge bird hanging about. It reminded me there was wrong and rapine in the world. I hated the brute. But I hid under one of the wago