The Flockmaster of Poison Creek

"Madam," said he, indignantly amazed by the barbarous thing he beheld, "does that man keep you a prisoner here?"

"Like a dog," she said, nodding her untidy head, lifting her foot to show him the chain.

It was a common trace-chain from plow harness; two of them, in fact, welded together to give her length to go about her household work. She had a freedom of not more than sixteen feet, one end of the chain welded about her ankle, the other set in a staple driven into a log of the wall. She had wrapped the links with cloths to save her flesh, but for all of that protection she walked haltingly, as if the limb were sore.

"I never heard of such inhuman treatment!" Mackenzie d