I thought the story over:  how Anderson had been
A clever, steady fellow, so far’s they knew, till then. 
Some said his wife had tried him, but he got to drinking hard,
Till last he struck her with an axe and killed her in the yard.

  The only thing I heard he said was, he was most to blame;
  But he fought the men that took him like a tiger.  ’Twas a shame
  He’d got away; he ought to swing:  a man that killed his wife
  And broke her skull in with an axe—­he ought to lose his life!

  Our house stood in a lonesome place, the woods were all around,
  But I could see for quite a ways across the open ground;
  I couldn’t help, for the life o’ me, a-looking now and then
  All along the edge o’ the growth, and listening for the men.

  I thought they would find Anderson:  he couldn’t run till night,
  For the farms were near together, and there must be a sight
  Of men out hunting for him; but when the clock struck three,
  A neighbour’s boy came up with word that John had sent to me.

  He would be home by five o’clock.  They’d scour the woods till dark;
  Some of the men would be off all night, but he and Andrew Clark
  Would keep watch round his house and ours—­I should not stay alone. 
  Poor John, he did the best he could, but what if he had known!

  The boy could hardly stop to tell that the se-lec’men had said
  They would pay fifty dollars for the man alive or dead,
  And I felt another shiver go over me for fear
  That John might get that money, though we were pinched that year.

  I felt a little easier then, and went to work again: 
  The sky was getting cloudier, ’twas coming on to rain. 
  Before I knew, the clock struck six, and John had not come back;
  The rain began to spatter down, and all the sky was black.

  I thought and thought, what shall I do if I’m alone all night? 
  I wa’n’t so brave as I am now.  I lit another light,
  And I stirred round and got supper, but I ate it all alone. 
  The wind was blowing more and more—­I hate to hear it moan.

I was cutting rags to braid a rug—­I sat there by the fire;
I wished I’d kep’ the dog at home; the gale was rising higher;
O own I had hard thoughts o’ John; I said he had no right
To leave his wife in that lonesome place alone that dreadful night.

And then I thought of the murderer, afraid of God and man;
I seemed to follow him all the time, whether he hid or ran;
I saw him crawl on his hands and knees through the icy mud in the
rain,
And I wondered if he didn’t wish he was back in his home again.

I fell asleep for an hour or two, and then I woke with a start;
A feeling come across me that took and stopped my heart;
I was ’fraid to look behind me; then I felt my heart begin;
And I saw right at the window-pane two eyes a-looking in.