Next day, as Hai Low kept house, he sat upon the door step. In his hand he clenched a bow. Again and again he glanced toward the stable. No person should take the milking cow. Not without regret. Beware, rogues, or suffer.
A traveler came down the road. He was a rich man and wore a hat that was high and covered with feathers. It was such hat as the wind demons love for a toy. A sudden breeze lifted the traveler's hat and whirled it fast and far. It came to earth in front of the stable. Of course, the stranger followed it, running, to the stable door.
Hai Low remembered his brother's command. He made a V of the bow string. His hurried arrow went seeking a mark. The traveler gave up all thought of recovering his hat. Down the road he dashed madly, shouting that he had been killed. However, he was a traveler, and travelers are noted for stories hard to believe. Hai Low sat on the steps and had practice with his bow. No man should take the milking cow, without taking
