[Illustration: ANN SHELLINGTON ANTICIPATES EVIL. 

 _Frontispiece_ (_Page_ 276. )]

FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSINGBYGRACE MILLER WHITE

AUTHOR OFTESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY

ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO-PLAYPRODUCED AND COPYRIGHTED BY THE FOX FILMCORPORATION

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS: NEW YORK

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Copyright, 1911, byW. J. WATT & COMPANY

Published, August, 1911

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"FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING"

CHAPTER ONE

One afternoon in late October four lean mules, with stringy musclesdragging over their bones, stretched long legs at the whirring of theirmaster's whip. The canalman was a short, ill-favored brute, with coarsered hair and freckled skin. His nose, thickened by drink, threatened theshort upper lip with obliteration. Straight from ear to ear, deep underhis chin, was a zigzag scar made by a razor in his boyhood days, andunder emotion the injured throat became convulsed at times, causing hiswords to be unintelligible. The red flannel shirt, patched with colorsof lighter shades, lay open to the shoulders, showing the dark, roughskin. 

"Git--git up!" he stuttered; and for some minutes the boat movedsilently, save for the swish of the water and the patter of the mules'feet on the narrow path by the river. 

From the small living-room at one end of the boat came the crooning of awoman's voice, a girlish voice, which rose and fell without tune orrhythm. Suddenly the mules came to a standstill with a "Whoa thar!"

"Pole me out a drink, Scraggy, " bawled the man, "and put a big snack ofwhisky in it--see?"

The boulder-shaped head shot forward in command as he spoke. And heheld the reins in his left hand, turning squarely toward the scow. Pushing out a dark, rusty, steel hook over which swung a raggedcoat-sleeve, he displayed the stump of a short arm. 

As the woman appeared at the bow of the boat with a long stick on theend of which hung a bucket, Lem Crabbe wound the reins about the steelhook and took the proffered pail in the fingers of his left hand. 

"Ye drink too much whisky, Lem, " called the woman. "Ye've had as many astwenty swigs today. Ye'll get no more till we reaches the dock--see?"

To this Lem did not reply. His shrewd eyes traveled up and down thegirlish figure in evil meaning. His thick lips opened, and the swarthycheeks went awry in a grimace. Before the hideous spasm of his silentmerriment the woman who loved him paled, and turned away with a shudder. She slouched down the short flight of steps, and the man, with a grin, malicious and cunning, lifted the tin pail to his lips. 

"It's time for her to go, " he muttered as he wiped his mouth, "it's timefor her to go! Git back here, Scraggy, and take this 'ere drink cup!"

This time the woman appeared with a fat baby in her arms. Mechanicallyshe unloosened the pail from the bent nail on the end of the pole andput it down, watching the man as he unwound the reins from the hook. Again the long-eared animals stretched their muscles at his hoarsecommand. He paid no more attention to the woman, who, seated on a pileof planks, was eying the square end of the boat. She drew a plaid shawlclose up under the baby's chin and threaded her listless fingers throughhis dark curls. Scraggy's thin hair was drawn back from her wan face, and her narrow shoulders were bowed with burdens too heavy for heryears; but she hugged the little creature sleeping on her breast, andstill kept her eyes upon the scene. Beyond she could see the smokerising from the buildings in the city of Albany, where they were to drawthe boat up for the night. On each side of the river bank, behind clumpsof trees, stood the mansions of those men for whom, according to ScraggyPeterson's belief, the world had been made. Finally her gaze dropped tothe scow, where little rivers of water made crooked paths across thedeck. Piles of planks reared high at her back, and edged the scow withthe squareness of a room. Scraggy knew that hauling lumber was but thecover for a darker trade. Yet as she glanced at the stolid, indifferentman trudging behind the mules a lovelight sprang into her eyes. 

Later, by an hour, the mules came to a halt at Lem's order. 

"Throw down that gangplank, Scraggy, " stammered Crabbe, "and put thebrat below! I want to get these here mules in. The storm'll be here inany minute. "

Obediently the woman hastened to comply, and soon the tired mulesmunched their suppers, their long faces filling the window-gaps of thestable. 

Lem Crabbe followed the woman down the scow-steps amid gusty howls ofthe wind, and the night fell over the city and the black, winding river. The man ate his supper in silence, furtively casting his eyes now andthen upon the slender figure of the woman. He chewed fast, uttering noword, and the creaking of the heavy jaws and the smacking of the coarselips were the only sounds to be heard after the woman had taken herplace at the table. Scraggy dared not yet begin to eat; for somethingnew in her master's manner filled her with sudden fear. By sitting veryquietly, she hoped to keep his attention upon his plate, and after hehad eaten he would go to bed. She was aroused from this thought by thefeeble whimper of her child in the tiny room of the scow's bow. Although the woman heard, she made no move to answer the weak summons. 

She rose languidly as the child began to cry more loudly; but a commandfrom Lem stopped her. 

"Set down!" he said. 

"The brat's a wailin', " replied Scraggy hoarsely. 

"Set down, and let him wail!" shouted Lem. 

Scraggy sank unnerved into the chair, gazing at him with terrified eyes. "Why, Lem, he's too little to cry overmuch. "

"Keep a settin', I say! Let him yap!"

For the second time that day Scraggy's face shaded to the color ofashes, and her gaze dropped before the fierce eyes directed upon her. 

"Ye said more'n once, Scraggy, " began Lem, "that I wasn't to drink nomore whisky. Whose money pays for what I drink? That's what I want ye totell me!"

"Yer money, Lem dear. "

"And ye say as how I couldn't drink what I pay for?"

"Yep, I has said it, " was the timid answer. "Ye drink too much--that'swhat ye do! Ye ain't no mind left, ye ain't! And it makes ye ugly, so itdoes!"

"Be it any of yer business?" demanded Lem insultingly, as he filled hismouth with a piece of brown bread. After washing it down with a drink ofwhisky, he finished, "Ye ain't no relation to me, be ye?"

The thin face hung over the tin plate. 

"Ye ain't married to me, be ye?"

And, while a giant pain gnawed at her heart, she shook her head. 

"Then what right has ye got to tell me what to do? Shut up or getout--ye see?"

He closed his jaw with a vicious snap, resting his half-dazed head onhis mutilated arm. Louder came the baby's cries from the back room. Thinking Lem had ended his tirade, Scraggy made a motion to rise. 

"Set still!" growled Crabbe. 

"Can't I get the brat, Lemmy?" she pleaded. "He's likely to fall offenthe bed. "

"Let him fall. What do I care? I want to tell ye somethin'. I didn'tbring ye here to this boat to boss me, ye see? Ye keep yer mouth shet'bout things what ye don't like. Ye're in my way, anyhow. "

"Ye mean, Lemmy, as how I has to leave ye?"

Crabbe regarded the appealing face soddenly before answering. "Yep, that's what I mean. I'm tired of a woman allers a snoopin' around, and ahundred times more tired of the brat. "

"But he's yer own, " cried the woman, "and ye did say as how ye'd marryme for his sake! Didn't ye say it, Lem? He ain't nothin' but a baby, an'he don't cry much. Will ye let me an' him stay, Deary?"

"Ye can stay tonight; but tomorry ye go, and I don't give a hell where, so long as ye leave this here scow, an' I'm a tellin' ye this--" Hehalted with an exasperated gesture. "Go an' get that kid an' shet hiseverlastin' clack!"

Scraggy bounded into the inner room, and, once out of sight of thewatchful eyes of Lem, snatched up the infant and pressed her lipspassionately to the rosy skin. 

"Yer mammy'll allers love ye, little 'un, allers, allers, no matter whatyer pappy does!"

She whispered this under her breath; then, dragging the red shawl abouther shoulders, appeared in the living-room with the child hidden fromview. 

"An' I'll tell ye somethin' else, too, " burst in Lem, pulling out acorncob pipe: "that it ain't none of yer business if I steal or if Idon't. I was born a thief, as I told ye many a time, and last night yemade Lon Cronk and Eli mad as hell by chippin' in. "

"They be bad men, " broke in the woman, "and ye know--"

"I know ye're a damn blat-heels, and I know more'n that: that yer ownpappy ain't no angel, and ye needn't be a sayin' my friends ain't noright here--ye see? They be--"

"They be thieves and liars, too, " interrupted Scraggy, allowing thesleeping babe to sink to her knees, "and the prison's allers a yawnin'for 'em!"

"Wall, I ain't a runnin' this boat for fun, " drawled Lem, "nor for todraw lumber for any ole guy in Albany. Ye know that I draw it jest tohide my trade, and if, after ye leave here, ye open yer head to tellwhat ye've seen, ye'll get this--ye see?" He held up the hooked armmenacingly. "Ye've seen me rip up many a man with it, ain't ye, Scraggy?"

"Yep. "

"And I ain't got nothin' ag'in' rippin' up a woman, nuther. So, when yego back to yer pa in Ithacy, keep yer mouth shet.... Will ye let up thatthere cryin'?"

Suppressing her tears, Scraggy shoved back a little from the table. "Ilove ye, Lem, " she choked, "and, if ye let me stay, I'll do whatever yesay. I won't talk nothin' 'bout drink nor stealin'. If I go ye'll getanother woman! I know ye can't live on this here scow without no woman. "

"And that ain't none of yer business, nuther--ye hear?" Lem grunted, settling deep into his chair, with an oath. "I'll get all the women inAlbany, if I want 'em! I don't never want none of yer lovin' any more!"

During this bitter insult a storm-cloud broke overhead, sending sheetsof water into the river. The wind howled above Crabbe's words, and hebrought out the last of his sentence in a higher key. Suddenly theshrill whistle of a yacht brought the drunken man to his feet. 

"It's some 'un alone in trouble, " he muttered. But his tones were not solow as to escape the woman. 

"Ye won't do no robbin' tonight, Deary--not tonight, will ye, Lem?'Cause it's the baby's birthday. "

Crabbe flung his squat body about toward the girl. "Shet up about thatbrat!" he growled. "I don't care 'bout no birthdays. I'll steal, if theman has anything and he's alone. I'll kill him like this, if he don'tgive up. Do ye want to see how I'd kill him?"

His eyes blazing with fire, he lifted the steel hook, brandished it inthe air, and brought it down close to the thin, drawn face. 

Scraggy, uttering a cry, sprang to her feet. "Lemmy, Lemmy, I love ye, and the brat loves ye, too! He'll grin at ye any ole day when ye cluckat him. And I teached him to say 'Daddy, ' to surprise ye on hisbirthday. Will ye list to him--will ye?"

In her eagerness to take his attention from the shrieking yacht, nowclose to the scow, Scraggy advanced toward the swaying man. She tried tolift brave eyes to his face; but they were filled with tears as they methis drunken, shifting look. 

"Lem, Lemmy dear, " she pleaded, "we love ye, both the brat an' me! Hecan say 'Daddy'--"

"Git out of my way, git out! Some'n' be a callin'. Git out, I say!"

"Not yet, not yet--don't go yet, Deary.... Deary! Wait till the kid says'Daddy. '" She held out the rosy babe, pushing him almost under Lem'schin. "Look at him, Lemmy! Ain't--he--sweet? He's yer own prettyboy-brat, and--"

Her loving plea was cut short; for the man, with a vicious growl, raisedhis stumped arm, and the sharp part of the hook scraped the skin fromher hollow cheek. It paused an instant on the level of her chin, thendescended into the upturned chest of the child. With a scream, Scraggydragged the boy back, and a wail rose from the tiny lips. Crabbe turned, cursing audibly, and stumbled up the steps to the stern of the boat. Thewoman heard him fall in his drunken stupor, and listened again and againfor him to rise. Her face was white and rigid as she stopped the flow ofblood that drenched the infant's coarse frock. Then, realizing thedanger both she and the child were in, since in all likelihood Lem wouldsleep but a few minutes, she slid open the window and looked out uponthe dark river in search of help. Splashes of rain pelted her face, while a gust of wind caused the scow to creak dismally. Scraggy couldsee no human being, only the lights of Albany blinking dimly through theraging storm. Another shrieking whistle warned her that the yacht wasstill near. Sailors' voices shouted orders, followed by the chug, chug, chug of an engine reversed. 

But, in spite of the efforts of the engineer, the wind swung the smallcraft sidewise against the scow, and, stupefied, Scraggy found herselfgazing into the face of another woman who was peering from the launch'swindow. It was a small, beautiful face shrouded with golden hair, thelarge blue eyes widened with terror. For a brief instant the two womeneyed each other. Just then the drunken man above rose and calledScraggy's name with an oath. She heard him stumbling about, trying tofind the stairs, muttering invectives against herself and her child. 

Scraggy looked down upon the little boy's face, twisted with pain. Sheplaced her fingers under his chin, closed the tiny jaws, and wrapped theshawl about the dark head. Without a moment's indecision, she thrust himthrough the window-space and said:

"Be ye a good woman, lady, a good woman?"

The owner of the golden head drew back as if afraid. 

"Ye wouldn't hurt a little 'un--a sick brat? He--he's been hooked. Andit's his birthday. Take him, 'cause he'll die if ye don't!"

Moved to a sense of pity, the light-haired woman extended two slenderwhite hands to receive the human bundle, struggling in pain under themuffling shawl. 

"He's a dyin'!" gasped Scraggy. "His pappy's a hatin' him! Give him warmmilk--"

Again the yacht's whistle shrieked hoarsely, drowning her last words. Asthe stern of the little boat swung round, Scraggy read, stamped in blackletters upon it:

 HAROLD BRIMBECOMB, TARRYTOWN-ON-THE-HUDSON, NEW YORK. 

The yacht shot away up the river, and was lost to the dull eyes thatcontinued peering for a last glimpse of the phantom-like boat that hadsnatched her dying treasure from her. Then, at last, the stricken womanturned, alone, to meet Lem Crabbe. 

"Where's that brat?" he demanded in a thick voice. 

"I throwed him in the river, " declared the mother. "He were dead. Yerhook killed him, Lem. He's gone!"

"I'll kill his mammy, too!" muttered Crabbe. "Git ye here--here--downhere--on the floor!"

His throat worked painfully as he threw the threatening words at her;they mingled harshly with the snarling of the wind and the sonorousrumble of the river. So great was Scraggy's fright that she sped roundthe wooden table to escape the frenzied man. Taking the steps in twobounds, she sprang to the deck like a cat, thence to the bank, and spedaway into the rain, with Lem's cries and curses ringing in her ears. 

CHAPTER TWO

Five years later the _Monarch_ was drawn up to the east bank of the ErieCanal at Syracuse. It was past midnight, and with the exception of thoseon Lem Crabbe's scow the occupants of all the long line of boats weresleeping. Three men sat silently working in the living-room of the boat. Lem Crabbe, Silent Lon Cronk, and his brother Eli, Cayuga Lakesquatters, were the workers. At one end of the room hung a broken ironkettle. Into this Eli Cronk was dropping bits of gold which he cut frombaubles taken from a basket. Crabbe, his short legs drawn up under hisbody, held a pair of pliers in his left hand, while caught firmly in thehook was a child's tiny pin. From this he tore the small jewels, threwthem into a tin cup, and passed the setting on to Eli. The other man, taciturn and fierce, was flattening out by means of strong pressersseveral gold rings and bracelets. The three had worked for many hourswith scarcely a word spoken, with scarcely a recognition of one another. 

Of a sudden Eli Cronk raised his head and said, "Lem, Scraggy was toMammy's t'other day. "

"I didn't know ye'd been to Ithacy?" Lem made the statement a question. 

"Yep, I went to see Mammy, and she says as how Scraggy's pappy weredead, and as how the gal's teched in here. " His words were low, and heraised his forefinger to his head significantly. 

"She ain't allers a stayin' in the squatter country nuther, " he pursued. "She takes that damn ugly cat of her'n and scoots away for a time. Andnone of 'em up there don't know where she goes. Hones' Injun, don't shenever come about this here scow, Lem?"

"Hones' Injun, " replied Lem laconically, without looking up from hiswork. 

Presently Eli continued:

"Mammy says as how the winter's comin', and some 'un ought to look outfor Scraggy. She goes 'bout the lake doin' nothin' but hollerin' like ahoot-owl, and she don't have enough to eat. But she's been gone nowgoin' on two weeks, disappearin' like she's been doin' for a few yearsback. Scraggy allers says she has bats in her head. "

"So she has bats, " muttered Lem, "and she allers had 'em, and that's whyI made her beat it. I didn't want no woman 'bout me for good and all. "

Lem Crabbe lifted his head and glanced toward the small windowoverlooking the dark canal. He had always feared the crazysquatter-woman whom he had wrecked by his brutality. 

"I says that I don't want no woman round me for all time, " he repeated. 

The third man raised his right shoulder at that; but sank into a heapagain, working more assiduously. The slight trembling of his body wasthe only evidence he gave that he had heard Crabbe's words. Snip, snip, snip! went the bits of gold into the kettle, until Eli spoke again. 

"Ye can't tell me that ye ain't goin' never to get married, Lem?"

Crabbe lifted his hooked arm viciously. "I ain't said nothin' like that. I says as how Scraggy can keep away from my scow. "

"Don't she never come here no more?" asked Eli in disbelief. 

"Nope, not after them three beatin's I give her. She kept a comin', andI had to wallop her. I'd do it again if she snoops 'bout here. "

"Ye beat her up well, didn't ye, Lem? And she telled Mammy that yer bratwere drowned one night in the river. Were it, Lem?"

There was an expectant pause between his first and last questions, andLem waited almost as long before he grunted:

"Yep. "

"Did ye throw it in when ye was drunk?"

"Nope, he jest fell in--that's all. "

"I guess that last beatin' ye give Scraggy made her batty. Mam says thatshe ain't no more sense than her cat. "

"Let her keep to hum then, and she won't get beat. I don't do no runnin'after her!"

Again there came a space of time during which Eli and Lem worked insilence. From far away in the city there came the sound of the firewhistle, followed by the ringing of bells. But not one of the men ceasedhis clipping to satisfy any curiosity he might have had. 

Suddenly Lem Crabbe spoke louder than he had before that evening. 

"Women ain't no good, nohow! They don't love no men, and men don't lovethem. What's the good of havin' 'em round to feed and to bother a feller'bout drinkin' an' things? Less a man sees of 'em the better!"

The third man, Silent Lon Cronk, sunk lower at his work, even morefiercely flattening the gemless rings under the pressers. After a fewmoments he laid down his tools and began to stretch his long legs, scraping into a cup the bits of gold from his lap. 

"I've been goin' to ask ye fellers somethin' for a long time. Might aswell now as any other night, eh?"

"Yep, " replied Eli eagerly. 

"'Tain't nothin' that will take any money out yer pockets; 'twill put itin, more likely. We've been stealin' together for how long, Lem? Howlong we been pals?"

"Nigh onto ten years, I'm thinkin'. It were that year that TillyJacobson got burned, weren't it?"

"Yep, for ten years, " replied Lon, ignoring Lem's last query, "and we'veallers been hones' with each other. I've been hones' with both of ye, and ye've been hones' with me. Eh?"

"Yep. "

"Lem, do ye want all the swag in this here room, only a sharin' up withEli, without havin' to share and share alike with me?"

A small jewel bounded from the steel hook, and the pliers fell fromLem's fingers. Eli dropped back upon his bare feet. 

"What's in the wind?" demanded Lem. 

"Only want ye to help me with a job some night that won't be nothin' tonuther of ye. But it's all to me. Will ye?"

Lem wriggled nearer on the floor. "Ye mean stealin', Lon?" he demanded. 

"Yep. "

"And we ain't to share up with it?"

"Nope; but ye're to have all that's in this here room. If I tell ye, will ye help?"

Crabbe looked at Eli, and a furtive look was shot back. Each was afraidof the other; but for the big, gloomy man before them they had vastrespect. 

"What be ye goin' to steal, Lon? Tell us before we say we'll help. "

"Kids, " muttered Lon moodily. 

"Live kids?" asked Eli, in great surprise. 

"Yep, live ones. What do I want with dead ones? Will ye help?"

"Can't see no good a swipin' kids. What do ye want with 'em?"

"I'll tell ye if ye sit up and listen to me. "

Crabbe dropped his hooked arm and leaned against the wall. Eli lighted apipe. A mysterious change had passed over Silent Lon's face. The blueeyes glowed out from under a massive brow, and a mouth cruel andvindictive set firm-jawed over decayed teeth. 

"I'll tell ye this much for all time, Lem Crabbe: that ye lied when yesaid that no woman could love no man--ye lied, I say!"

So fierce had he become that the man with the hook drew back into thecorner and sat staring sullenly. Eli puffed more vigorously on his pipe. 

Lon went on:

"I had a woman oncet, " said he, "and she were every bit mine. And shewere little--like this. "

The big fellow measured off a space with his hand and, straighteningagain, stood against the wall of the scow, his head reaching almost tothe ceiling. 

"She were mine, I say, and any man what says she weren't--"

"Where be she?" interrupted Lem curiously. 

"Dead, " replied Lon, "as dead as if she'd never been alive, as dead asif she'd never laid ag'in' my heart when I wanted her! God! how I wantedher!"

"But were she a woman?" asked Lem meditatively. 

"Yep, she were a woman, and I married her square, I did!"

Lon stirred his dank black hair ferociously, standing it on end withhorny fingers. "I loved her, Lem Crabbe, " he continued hoarsely. "Iloved her, that I know! And ye can let that devilish grin ride on yerlips when I say it and I don't give a hell; but--but if ye say that shedidn't love me, if ye so much as smile when I say that she died acallin' me, that she went away lovin' me every minute, I--I'll ripoffen yer hooked arm and tear out yer in'ards with it!"

He was leaning against the wall no longer. As he spoke, he came closerto the crouching canalman, his eyes straining from their sockets inlivid hate. But he halted, and presently began to speak in a voice moresubdued. 

"But she's dead, and I'm goin' to get even. He killed her, he did, 'cause he wouldn't let me see her, and he's got to go the same way Iwent! He's got to tear his hair and call God to curse some 'un he won'tknow who! He's got to want his kids like as how I've been wantin'mine--"

"Ye ain't had no kids, Lon, " his brother broke in scoffingly. 

"I would a had if he'd a kept his hands to hum and let me see her. Butshe were so little an' young-like an' afeard, and I telled her thatnight--I telled her when she whispered that she were a goin' to have ababy, and said as how she couldn't stand bein' hurt--I says, 'Midgedarlin', do it hurt the grass to grow jest 'cause the winds bend itdouble? Do it hurt the little birds to bust out of their shells in thespringtime?' And she knowed what I meant, that not even what she were athinkin' of could hurt her if I was there close by. "

His deep voice sank almost to a whisper, a hard, heavy sob closing histhroat. He shook himself fiercely and continued:

"I took her up close--God! how close I tooked her up! And I telled herthat there wasn't no pain big 'nough to hurt her when I were there--thateven God's finger couldn't tech her afore it went through me. And shefell to sleep like a bird, a trustin' me, 'cause I said as how therewasn't goin' to be no hurt. And all the time I knowed I were a lyin'--Iknowed that she'd suffer--"

His voice trailed into silence, the muscles of his dark face twitchingunder the gnawing heart-pain; but after a time he conquered his feelingsand went on:

"Then they comed and took me away for stealin' jest that there week andsent me up to Auburn prison, and they wouldn't let me stay with her. AndI telled the state's lawyer, Floyd Vandecar, this; I says, 'Vandecar, yebe a good man, I be a thief, and ye caught me square, ye did. My littleMidge be sick like women is sick sometimes, and she wants me, like everywoman wants her man jest then, an' if ye'll let me see her, to stay abit, I'll go up for twice my time. ' But he jest laughed till--"

Lon stopped speaking, and neither listener moved. For a moment helowered his head to the small boat window and gazed out into the vaporshanging low over the opposite bank. 

Turning again, he backed up to the scow's side and proceeded in a lowervoice:

"When they telled me she were dead, they had to set me in the jacket, buckled so tight ye could hear my bones crack. The warden ain't got noblame comin' from me, 'cause I smashed his face afore he'd done tellin'me. And I felled the keeper like that!" He raised a knotty fist andthrust it forth. "But it were all 'cause I wanted to be with her so, 'cause I couldn't stand the knowin' that she'd gone a callin' and acallin' me!"

He was quiet so long that Eli Cronk drew his sleeve across his face tobreak the oppressive stillness. Here, in the dead of night, his somberbrother had been transformed into another creature, --a passionatecreature, responding to the call of a dead woman, a man whose hatredwould carry him to fearful lengths. 

The hoarse voice broke forth again:

"Midge darlin', dead baby, and all that ye had belongin' to me, I do itfor you! I'll steal his'n, and they'll suffer and suffer--"

He tossed up his great head with a jerk, crushing the sentiment from hisvoice. 

"But that don't make no matter now, " he muttered. "I'm goin' to take hiskids! He's got two, an' he's prouder'n a turkey cock of 'em. I'll take'em and I'll make of 'em what I be--I'll make 'em so damn bad that hewon't want 'em no more after I get done with 'em! I'll see what hiswoman does when she finds 'em gone! Will ye help, Lem--Eli?"

"Yep, by God, you bet!" burst from both men at once. 

"I'll take 'em to the squatter country, up to Mammy's, " Lon proceeded, "and, Eli, if ye'll take one of 'em on the train up to McKinneys Point, I'll take t'other one up the west side of the lake. I'll pay all theway, Eli; it won't be nothin' out o' yer pocket. We'll tell Mammy thekids be mine--see? And ye can have all there be in this here room. Be ita bargain?"

"Yep, " assured Eli, and Lena's consent followed only an instant later. After that there were no sounds save the snip, snip, snip of the pliersand the occasional low grating from a jeweled trinket as the steel hookgouged into the metal. 

CHAPTER THREE

As Eli Cronk said, Scraggy Peterson left her lonely squatter home twoweeks before with no companion but her vicious black cat. The woman hadintervals of sanity, and during those periods her thoughts turned to adark-haired boy, growing up in a luxurious home. In these rare days shedonned her rude clothing, and with the cat perched close to her thinface walked across the state to Tarrytown. Several times during the fiveyears after leaving Lem's scow she walked to Tarrytown, returning onlywhen she had seen the little boy, to take up her squatter life in herfather's hut. So secretive was she that no one had been taken into herconfidence; neither had she interfered with her child in any way. Neveronce, hitherto, had her senses left her on those long country marchestoward the east; but often when she turned backward she would utterforlorn cries, characteristic of her malady. 

 * * * * *

At eight o'clock, four hours before Lon Cronk opened his heart to hiscompanions, Scraggy, footsore and weary, entered Sleepy Hollow Cemeteryand seated herself on the damp earth to gather strength. By begging andstealing she had managed to reach her destination; but now for the firsttime on this journey the bats were in her head, sounding the walls ofher poor brain with the ceaseless clatter of their wings. Still themother heart called for its own, through the madness--called for onesight of Lem's child and hers. At length after a long rest she turnedinto a broad path which she knew well, and did not halt until she wasstaring eager-eyed into the window of Harold Brimbecomb's house whichstood close to the cemetery. 

[Illustration: FOR MIDGE'S SAKE. ]

To the left of the Brimbecomb's was the mansion, belonging to theorphans of Horace Shellington. The young Horace and his sister Ann werethe favorite companions of Everett Brimbecomb, now six years old. He wasa strong, proud, handsome lad. Many conjectures had been made concerninghim by the Tarrytown people, because one day five years before thedelicate, light-haired wife of Mr. Brimbecomb had appeared with adark-haired baby boy, announcing that from that day on he would take theplace of her own child who had died a few months before. No person hadtold Everett that the millionaire was not his father, nor was he made tounderstand that the mother and the home were not his by right of birth. His bright mind and handsome appearance were the pride of his adoptedmother's life, and his rich father smiled only the more leniently whenthe lad showed a rebellious spirit. In the child's dark, limpid eyesslumbered primeval passions, needing but the dawn of manhood to breakforth, perhaps to destroy the soul beneath their reckless domination. 

Everett was entertaining Ann and Horace Shellington at dinner, and afterthe repast the youngsters betook themselves to the large square roomgiven to the young host's own use. Here were multitudinous playthingsand mechanical toys of all descriptions. For many minutes the childrenhad been too interested to note that the shadows were grown long andthat a somber gloom had settled down over the cemetery that lay justbeyond the windows. 

Ann Shellington, a delicate little creature of eight, looked upnervously. "Everett, draw down the curtain, " she said. "It looks soghostly out there!"

Ann made a motion toward the window; but the boy did not obey her. 

"Isn't that just like a girl, Horace?" he asked. "I'm not afraid ofghosts. Dead people can't walk, can they, Horace?"

The other boy answered "No" thoughtfully, as he started a miniaturetrain across the length of the room. 

"Then who is it that walks in the night out there?" insisted the girl. "Lots of town people have seen it. It's a woman with shaggy hair, andsometimes her eyes turn green. "

"Pouf!" scoffed Everett. "My father says there aren't any such things asghosts. I wouldn't be a fraidy cat, Ann. "

"I'm not a fraidy cat, " pouted the girl. "I always go upstairs alone, don't I, Horace?"

Another answer in the affirmative, and Horace proceeded to roll thetrain back over the carpet. 

"If you had any mother, " said Everett, "she'd tell you there weren't anyghosts. My mother tells me that. "

"I haven't any mother, " sighed the little girl, listlessly folding herhands in her lap. 

"Nor any father, either, " supplemented Horace, with seemingly no thoughtof the magnitude of his statement. "I don't believe in ghosts, anyhow!"

He glanced up as he spoke, and the train fell with a bang to the floor. Everett Brimbecomb dropped the toy he held in his hand, and Ann boundedfrom her chair. A white face with wide eyes, staring through scragglygray hair, appeared at the window. For only an instant it pressedagainst the pane, then vanished as if it had never been. 

"It was a woman, " gasped Horace, "or was it a--"

"It wasn't a ghost, " interrupted Everett stoutly. "I dare follow it outthere. Look at me!"

He straightened his shoulders, threw up his dark head, and opened thedoor leading to the narrow walk at the side of the house. In anothermoment the watching boy and girl at the window saw him dart into thehedge and a minute later emerge through it, picking his way among theancient graves. Suddenly from behind a tall monument stole a figure, andas it approached the solemn eyes of the apparition smiled in dull wonderon Everett Brimbecomb. 

Scraggy held out her hands. "Don't run away, little 'un, " she whispered. "There be bats flyin' about in my head; but my cat won't hurt ye. "

She passed one arm about the snarling creature perched on her shoulder;but the cat with a hiss only raised himself higher. 

"Don't spit at the pretty boy, Kitty--pretty pussy, black pussy!"wheedled the woman. "He won't hurt ye, childy. Come nearer, will ye?This be a good cat. "

"Are you a ghost?" demanded Everett, edging into the light. 

"Nope, I ain't no ghost. I love ye, pretty boy. Ye won't tell no onethat I speak to ye, will ye? I ain't doin' no hurt. "

"What do you carry that cat for, and what's your name?" demanded Everettinsolently; for the proud young eyes had noticed the disheveled figure. "If any one of our men see you about here, they'll shoot you. I'd shootyou and your cat, too, if I had my father's gun!"

Scraggy smiled wanly. "Screech Owl's my name, " said she. "They call methat 'cause I'm batty. But ye wouldn't hurt me, little 'un, 'cause Ilove ye. How old be ye?"

"Six years old; but it isn't any of your business. Crazy people ought tobe locked up. You'd better go away from here. My father owns that house, and--don't you follow me through the hedge. Get back, I say! If I callMalcolm--"

Everett drew back through the box-hedge, and the boy and the girl at thewindow saw the woman squeeze in after him. In another moment the youngheir to the Brimbecomb fortune bounded through the doorway. His face waswhite; his eyes were filled with fear. 

"Did you see that old woman?" he gasped. "She tried to kiss me, and Ipunched her in the face, and her cat did this to my arm. "

He pulled up his sleeve, and displayed a long scratch from wrist toelbow. 

"Are you sure it wasn't a ghost, Everett?" asked Ann, shivering. 

"Of course, it wasn't, " boasted Everett. "It was only a horrid womanwith a cat--that's all. "

As he closed the door vehemently, there drifted to the children from themarble monument and waving trees the faint wail of a night-owl. 

CHAPTER FOUR

On a fashionable street in Syracuse, Floyd Vandecar, district attorneyof the city, lived in a new house, built to please the delicate fanciesof his pretty wife. His career had been comet-like. Graduated fromCornell University and starting in law with his father, he had succeededto a large practice when but a very young man. Then came the call forhis force and strength to be used for the state, and, with a gratifiedsmile, he accepted the votes of his constituents to act as districtattorney. Then, as Lon Cronk had told, it came within the duty of theyoung lawyer to convict the thief of grand larceny committed three yearsbefore. After that Floyd married the lovely Fledra Martindale, and ayear later his twin children were born--a sturdy boy and a tiny girl. The children were nearly a year old when Fledra Vandecar whisperedanother secret to her husband, and Vandecar, lover-like, had gatheredhis darling into his arms, as if to hold her against any harm that mightcome to her. This happened on the morning following the night whenSilent Lon Cronk told the dark tale of suffering to his pals. 

Just how Lon Cronk came to know the inner workings of the Vandecarhousehold he never confided; but, biding his time, waited for the hourto come when the blow would be harder to bear. At last it fell, fell notonly upon the brilliant district attorney, but upon his lovely wife andhis hapless children. 

 * * * * *

One blustering night in March, Lem Crabbe's scow was tied at the locksnear Syracuse. The day for the fulfilment of Lon Cronk's revenge hadarrived. That afternoon Lon had come from Ithaca with his brother Eli tomeet Lem. 

"Be ye goin' to steal the kids tonight, Lon?" asked Lem. 

"Yep, tonight. "

"Why don't ye take just one? It'd make 'em sit up and note a bit tocrib, say, the boy. "

"We'll take 'em both, " replied Lon decisively. 

"And if we get caught?" stammered Crabbe. 

"We don't get caught, " assured Lon darkly, "'cause tonight's the timefor 'em all to be busy 'bout the Vandecar house. I know, I do--no matterhow!"

 * * * * *

Wee Mildred Vandecar was ushered into the world during one of the worstMarch storms ever known in the western part of New York. As she laysnuggled in laces in her father's home, a tall man walked down a lane, four miles from Ithaca, with her sleeping sister in his arms. The darkbaby head was covered by a ragged shawl; two tender, naked feetprotruded from under a coarse skirt. Lon Cronk struggled on against thewind to a hut in the rocks, opened the door, and stepped inside. 

A woman, not unlike him, in spite of added years, rose as he entered. 

"So ye comed, Lon, " she said. 

"Course! Did Eli get here with the other brat?"

"Yep, there 'tis. And he's been squalling for the whole night and day. He wanted the other little 'un, I'm a thinkin'. "

"Yep, " answered Lon somberly, "and he wants his mammy, too. But, as Itelled ye before, she's dead. "

"Be ye reely goin' to live to hum, Lon?" queried the old woman eagerly. 

"Yep. And ye'll get all ye want to eat if ye'll take care of the kids. Be ye glad to have me stay to hum?"

"Yep, I'm glad, " replied the mother, with a pathetic droop to hershriveled lips. 

Just then the child on the cot turned over and sat up. The small, tear-stained face was creased with dirt and molasses. Bits of breadstuck between fingers that gouged into a pair of gray eyes flecked withbrown. Noting strangers, he opened his lips and emitted a forlorn wail. The other baby, in the man's arms, lifted a bonny dark head with a jerk. 

For several seconds the babies eyed each other. Two pairs of brown-shoteyes, alike in color and size, brightened, and a wide smile spread thefour rosy lips. 

"Flea! Flea!" murmured the baby on the bed; and "Flukey!" gurgled theinfant in Lon's arms. 

"There!" cried the old woman. "That's what he's been a cryin' for. Sethim on the bed, Lon, for God's sake, so he'll keep his clack shet for aminute!"

The baby called "Flea" leaned over and rubbed the face of the babycalled "Flukey, " who touched the dimpled little hand with his. Then theyboth lay down on a rough, low cot in the squatter's home and forgottheir baby troubles in sleep. 

 * * * * *

The kidnapping of the twins was discovered just after Fledra Vandecarhad presented her husband with another daughter, a tiny human flowerwhich the strong man took in his hands with tender thanksgiving. Thethree days that followed the disappearance of his children were eternalfor Floyd Vandecar. The entire police force of the country had beencalled upon to help bring to him his lost treasures. So necessary was itfor him to find them that he neither slept nor worked. He had had totell the mother falsehood after falsehood to keep her content. Thechildren had suddenly become infected with a contagious disease, and thedoctor had said that the new baby must not be exposed in anycircumstances. After three long weeks of torture it devolved upon him totell his wife that her children were gone. 

"Sweetheart, " he whispered, sitting beside her and taking her hands inhis, "do you love and trust me very much indeed?"

The wondering blue eyes smiled upon him, and small fingers threaded hisblack hair. 

"I not only love you, Dear, but trust you always. I don't want to seemobstinate and impatient, Floyd, but if I could see my babies just fromthe door I should be happy. And it won't hurt me. I haven't seen them inthree whole weeks. "

During the long, agonizing silence the young mother gathered somethingof his distress. 

"Floyd, look at me!"

Slowly he lifted his white face and looked straight at her. 

"Floyd, Floyd, you've tears in your eyes! I didn't mean to hurt you--"

She stopped speaking, and the pain in his heart reached hers. 

"Floyd, " she cried again, "is there anything the matter with--with--"

"Hush, Fledra darling, little wife, will you be brave for my sake andfor the sake of--her?"

His eyes were still full of tears as he touched the bundle on the bed. 

"But my babies!" moaned Mrs. Vandecar. "If there isn't anything thematter with my babies--"

"I want to speak to you about our children, Dear. "

"They are dead?" Mrs. Vandecar asked dully. "My babies are dead?"

At first Vandecar could scarcely trust himself to speak; but, curbinghis emotion with an effort, he answered, "No, no; but gone for a littlewhile. "

His arms were tightly about her, and time and again he pressed his lipsto hers. 

"Gone where?" she demanded. 

"Fledra, you must not look that way! Listen to me, and I will tell youabout it. I promise, Fledra. Don't, don't! You must not shake so!Please! Then you do not trust me to bring them back to you?"

His last appeal brought the tense arms more limply about his neck. Shehad believed him absolutely when he said they were not dead. 

"Am I to have them tonight?"

"No, dear love. "

"Where are they gone?"

"The cradles were empty after little Mildred--"

"They have been gone for--for three weeks!" she wailed. "Floyd, who tookthem? Were they kidnapped? Have you had any letters asking for money?"

Vandecar shook his head. 

"And no one has come to the house? Tell me, Floyd! I can't bear it!Someone has taken my babies!"

She raised herself on her arm wildly, fever brightening the anguishedeyes. The husband with bowed head remained praying for them andespecially for her. Another cry from the wounded mother aroused him. 

"Floyd, they have been taken for something besides money. Tell me, Dearest! Don't you know?"

Faithfully he told her that he could think of no human being who woulddeal him a blow like this; that he had thought his life over frombeginning to end, but no new truth came out of his mental search. 

"Then they want money! Oh, you will pay anything they demand! Floyd, will they torture my baby boy and girl? Will they?"

"Fledra, beloved heart, " groaned Vandecar, "please don't struggle likethat! You'll be very ill. I promised you that you should have them backsome day soon, very soon. Fledra, sweet wife, you still have the babyand me--and Katherine. "

"I want my little children! I want my boy and girl!" gasped Mrs. Vandecar. "I will have them, I will! No, I sha'n't lie down till I havethem! I'm going to find them if you won't! I will not listen to you, Floyd, I won't ... I won't--"

Each time the words came forth they were followed by a moan which torethe man's heart as it had never been torn before. For a single instanthe drew himself together, forced down the terrible emotion in hisbreast, and leaned over his wife. 

"Fledra, Fledra, I command you to obey me! Lie down! I am going to bringyou back your babies. "

He had never spoken to her in such a tone of authority. She sank underit with parted lips and swift-coming breath. 

"But I want my babies, Floyd!" she whispered. "How can I think of themout in the cold and the storm, perhaps being tortured--"

"Fledra, sweet love, precious little mother, am I not their father, anddon't you trust me? Wait--wait a moment!"

He moved the babe from her mother's side, called the nurse, and in a lowtone told her to keep the child until he should send for her. Then heslipped his arms about the wailing mother, lay down beside her, and drewher to his breast. 

During the next few hours of darkness he watched her--watched her untilthe night gave way to a shadowy dawn. And as she slept he still heldher, praying tensely that he might be given power to keep his promise toher. When she started up he gathered her closer and hushed her to sleepas a mother does a suffering child. How gladly he would have borne herlarger share, yet more gladly would he have convinced himself that bymorning the children would be again under his roof!

At last Mrs. Vandecar awoke, calmer and with ready faith to acknowledgethat she believed he would accomplish his task. At her own request, hebrought their tiny baby. 

"Will you see Katherine, too, Fledra, " ventured Vandecar. "The poorchild hasn't slept much, and she can't be persuaded to eat. "

Misery, deep and pathetic, flashed in the blue eyes Mrs. Vandecar raisedto his. At length she faltered:

"Floyd, I've never loved Katherine as I should. I'm sorry.... Yes, yes, I will see her--and you will bring me my babies!"

Vandecar stooped and kissed her; then, with a tightening of his throat, went out. 

Five minutes later a small girl followed Mr. Vandecar in and stoodbeside the bed. Fledra Vandecar took the little girl-face in her handsand kissed it. 

CHAPTER FIVE

The years went on, with the gap still left wide in the Vandecarhousehold. As month after month passed and nothing was heard of herchildren, Mrs. Vandecar gradually gave up hope. Her despair left ashadow of pathetic pleading in her blue eyes. This constant silentappeal whitened Floyd Vandecar's hair and caused him to apply himself tobusiness more assiduously than ever. Never once in all those bitteryears did he connect Lon Cronk with the disappearance of his babies. 

Meantime two sturdy children were growing to girlhood and boyhood in theCronk hut on Cayuga Lake. So safely had the secret of the kidnappingbeen kept from Granny Cronk and the other squatters in the settlementthat the twins were regarded by all as the son and daughter of thesquatter. 

The year following Flea's and Flukey's fourteenth birthday the boy wastaken into his foster-father's trade of thieving. At first he wasallowed only to enter the houses and deftly unbar the door for an easieregress for Eli Cronk and Lem Crabbe. Later he was commanded to snatch upanything of value he could. Many were the times he wept in boyishbitterness against the commands of Lon, revealing his sorrows to Flea, who listened moodily. 

"I wouldn't steal nothin' if I was you, " she said again and again. ButFlukey one day silenced this reiteration by confiding to her that PappyLon had threatened to turn her to his trade if he rebelled. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon in late September, Flea left the hut and went out to thelake. Flukey, Lon Cronk, and Lem Crabbe had gone to Ithaca to buygroceries, and it was time for them to return. A chill wind swung thegirl's skirt about her knees, and for some minutes she squatted on thebeach, keeping her eyes upon the lighthouse in the distance. 

For the last year Flea had been rapidly growing into a woman. GrannyCronk had proudly noted that the fair face had grown lovelier, that theebony curls fell about her shoulders. The one dream the girl had had wasa dream of long hair, ankle dresses, and girl's shoes. Until that yearLon had insisted that her hair be kept short, and had himself trimmedthe ebony curls every month. Now, in the damp air, they twisted andturned in the wildest profusion. The coming of womanhood had thrown newlight into the clear-gray, brown-flecked eyes. At this moment she waswondering what she and her brother would do if Granny Cronk died. Sheshivered as she thought of life in the hut without the protecting oldwoman. 

Suddenly, from above the Lehigh Valley tracks, she heard the sound ofhorses' hoofs. Her attention taken from her meditations, she lifted herpensive gaze from the lake, wheeled about, and looked for the horseman. Flea knew that it was not a summer cottager; for many days before thelast of them had taken his family to Ithaca. Perhaps some chancewayfarer had followed the wrong road. Just below the tracks she caught aglimpse of a black horse, and as it came nearer Flea noted the rider, ayoung man whose kindly dark eyes and white teeth dazzled her. Hisstraight legs were incased in yellow boots, his fine form in a tightlyfitting riding-coat. Flea had never seen just such a man, not even inthe infrequent visits she made to Ithaca. Something in his smile, as hedrew up his steed and looked down upon her, affected her with a curiousthrill. 

"Little girl, will you tell me if I am on the right road to Glenwood?"

Flea's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. His voice, cultivated anddeep, made her forget for a moment the question he had asked her. Thenshe remembered; but instinctively she did not reply in her usual highsquatter tones. 

"Nope, ye got to go back, and turn to the right at the top of the hill. Ye can't go round the shore from here; the water's too high. "

This impulsive desire to choose her words and to modulate her voice camefrom a sudden realization that there lived another class of peopleoutside the squatter settlement of whom she knew little. 

"Thank you very much, " replied the questioner. "Now I understand that ifI ride to the top of the hill and turn to the right, I'll reachGlenwood?"

"Yep, " answered Flea. 

Her embarrassment caused her lips to close over the one word. Wonderingly she watched the man ride away until the sight of his darkhorse was lost in the trees above the tracks. 

"It were a prince, " she stammered in a low tone, "a real live prince!"

Flea contemplated the darkening hills with moody eyes. She countedslowly one by one the towers of the university buildings. This she didmerely from habit; for the expression remained unchanged on hermelancholy face. At length the gray eyes dropped to the water and fixedtheir gaze upon a fishing boat turning toward the shore. A few momentsbefore it had been but a black speck near the lighthouse; but as it camenearer Flea distinctly saw the two men and the boy in it. Upon the bowof the boat was perched Snatchet, a yellow terrier, his short earsperked up with happiness at the prospect of supper. When the crafttouched shore the girl rose and ran toward it. Almost in fear, shesearched the face of the youth at the rudder with eyes so like his ownthat they seemed rather a reflection than another pair. She said no worduntil she took her position beside the boy on the shore, slipping herhand into his as she walked by his side toward the hut. 

"Be ye back for the night, Flukey?" she asked. 

"Nope. "

"Where ye goin' after supper?"

"To Ithaca. "

"Air ye leg a hurtin' ye much?"

"Yep. "

"Granny Cronk says as how yer pains be rheumatiz. If ye stay in out ofthe night air, ye'll get well. "

"Pappy Lon won't let me, " sighed Flukey. 

He sank down on the cabin threshold, and as he spoke drew a blue trouserleg slowly up. 

"Damn knee!" he groaned. "It gets so twisted! And sometimes I can'twalk. "

"Be ye goin' to steal again tonight?" asked the girl, bending towardhim. 

"Yep, with Pappy Lon and Lem. I hate it all, I do!" he criedimpetuously. 

"What makes ye go? Take a lickin', an' I bet ye'll stay to hum. Iwould!"

With a spiteful shake of the black curls, she rubbed a bare toe overSnatchet's yellow back. 

"I wish I was a boy, " she went on. "While I hate stealin', I'd do it tohave ye stay to hum, Flukey; then ye'd get well. And--"

She broke off abruptly and lowered her eyes to the shore, where Lem andLon were in earnest conversation. At the same moment Lon looked up andshouted a command:

"Flea gal, Flea gal, come down here to me!"

Flea dropped the hand of her brother, moved directly to the water'sedge, and stood quietly until Lon chose to speak. 

Lem Crabbe's eyes devoured the slight young figure, his smile contortingthe corners of his whiskered mouth. One hand rested on the bow of theboat, while the long, rusty hook, sharp at the point and thick ironed atthe top, protruded from the other coat-sleeve. 

At last Lon Cronk began to speak deliberately, and the girl gave him herattention. 

"Flea, ye be a woman now, ain't ye?" he said "Ye be fifteen this comin'Saturday. "

"Yep, Pappy Lon. "

"And yer brother be fifteen on the same day, you bein' twins. "

"Yep, Pappy Lon. "

"Yer brother's been taken into my trade, " proceeded the squatter, "andit ain't the wust in the world--that of takin' what ye want from themthat have plenty. It's time for ye to be doin' somethin', too. Ye'll goto Lem's Scow, Flea. "

"To Lem's scow?" exclaimed Flea. "That ain't no place for a kid, andnobody ain't a wantin' me, nuther! I know there ain't!"

"Ain't there nobody a wantin' her in yer scow, Lem Crabbe?" grinned Lon. 

"Ye bet there be!" answered Lem, with an evil leer. 

Flukey, who had approached the group, placed himself closer to hissister. "Who--who be wantin' Flea, Lem Crabbe?" he demanded. 

"It's me, it's me!" replied Lem, wheeling savagely about. 

[Illustration: "LET ME--STAY A BIT--I'LL GO UP FOR TWICE MY TIME. "]

For a short space of time nothing but the splash of the waves could beheard as they rolled white on the shore. A change passed over Flea, andshe clutched fiercely at her brother's fingers. It was as if she hadsaid, "Help me, Flukey, if ye can!" But she did not speak the words;only stared at the hook-armed man with strained eyes. 

"Flea ain't no notion of goin' away right yet, Pappy Lon, " burst outFlukey, catching his breath after the shock. "She's perferrin' to staywith us; and I'll work for her keep, if ye let her stay. "

"Nope, I ain't no notion o' marryin', " repeated Flea, encouraged by herbrother's insistence. 

"Who said as how Lem wanted ye to marry him?" sneered Lon, eying herfrom head to foot. "Yer notions one way or nother ain't nothin' to me, my gal. Ye'll go with the man I choose for ye, and that's all there beto it!"

Dazed by his first words, she whispered, "I hate Lem Crabbe!"

As if by its own volition, the hook rose threateningly to within a shortdistance of the fair, appealing face. But it dropped again, as Lonrepeated:

"That ain't nothin' to do with the thing, nuther, Flea. A man ain't aseekin' for a lovin' woman. He wants her to take care of his shanty andwhat he gets by hard work, he does, and he gives her victuals and drinkfor the doin' of it. That's enough for you, or for any gal what's asquatter. "

So well did Flea realize the powerlessness of the rigid boy at her sideto help her, that she dropped his hand and alone went nearer to thethief. 

"Can't I stay with you and with Granny Cronk for another year? Can't Istay? Can't I, Pappy Lon?"

"Nope, I wouldn't keep ye in the shanty if ye had money for yer keeps. Ye go on a Saturday to Lem's boat to be his woman, ye see?"

The iron hook by this time was hanging loosely by Lem's side; but acruel expression had gathered on the sullen face. A frown drew thecrafty eyes together, bespeaking wrath at the girl's words. 

That he would have her at the bidding of her father, Lem never doubted. During the last three years he had been resolved to take her home in duetime to be his woman. To subdue the proud young spirit, to make her themother of children like himself, --the boys destined to be thieves, andthe girls squatter women, --was his one ambition. That he was old enoughto be her father made no difference to him. 

He was watching her as she stood in the darkening twilight, gloatingover the thought that his vicious dreams were so near their fulfilment. 

Flea was looking into the eyes of her father, and he looked back at herwith an impudent smile. 

"Ye don't like the thought of this comin' Saturday, Flea--eh?" he askedslowly. "But, as I said before, a gal hain't nothin' to do with thenotions of her daddy. And Granny Cronk'll give ye a pork cake to take toLem's, and he'll let ye eat it all to yerself. Eh, Lem?"

"Yep, " grunted Lem. "She eats the pork cake if she will; but afterthat--"

Suddenly Lon silenced Lem's words with a wag of his head toward thegirl. "Flea, " he said, "I telled Lem as how ye'd kiss him tonight. "

The words stunned the girl, they were so unexpected, so terrible. Sheturned her eyes upon Lem and fearfully studied his face. He was gazingback, his open lips showing his discolored, broken teeth. The coarse, red hair sprinkled with gray gave a fierce aspect to his wholeappearance, and from the emotion through which he was passing themuscles under his chin worked to and fro. With a grin he advanced towardher. Flea fell back against Flukey. The boy steadied the trembling, slender body. 

"I ain't a goin' to kiss ye, " she muttered. "I hate yer kisses! I hate'em!"

"Ye'll kiss him, jest the same!" ordered Lon. 

Closer and closer Lem came toward the girl; then suddenly he sprang ather like a tiger, crushing the slim figure against his breast. For amoment Flea was encircled by his left arm. Then she turned fiercely tothe ugly face so close to hers, and in another instant had bitten itthrough the cheek. He dropped her with a yelling oath, and Flea sprangback, turning flashing eyes upon Lon. 

"That's how I kiss him afore I go to him, " she screamed, "and worser andworser after he takes me!"

Lon laughed wickedly. He had not expected such a display of spirit. "Iguess ye'll have to wait, Lem, " he said; "fer--"

Flea did not hear the rest of the sentence; for she and Flukey werehurrying toward the hut. 

Lem stood wiping the blood from his face. "The cussed spit-cat!" hehissed. "When I take her in hand--"

"When ye take her in hand, Lem, " interrupted Lon darkly, "ye can do whatye like. Break her spirit! Break her neck, if ye want to! I don't care. "

 * * * * *

The children found Granny Cronk with bent shoulders and palsied handstoiling over the supper. About the withered neck hung a redhandkerchief, and on top of the few gray whisps of hair rested aspotless cap. She grunted as the children entered the room like awhirlwind and climbed the long ladder to the loft, where for some timethe low voice of Flukey and the sobs of Flea could be heard in thekitchen below. 

It was not until her son had entered and hung his cap upon the peg thatthe old woman ventured to speak. 

"Be Flea in a tantrum, Lon?"

"Yep, ye bet she be!"

"Have ye been a beatin' her?"

"Nope, I never teched her, " replied the squatter; "but I will beat her, if she don't do what I tell her. No matter how she kicks ag'in' mynotions, she has to do 'em, Granny!"

"Yep, I know that; but I asked ye what she was a blubberin' about. "

"'Cause I says as how on Saturday she's got to go and be Lem'swoman--that's what I says. "

"Lem's woman! Do ye mean that she's got to go away?"

"Yep, with Lem Crabbe, " replied Cronk; "he's to be her man on her nextbirthday. I bet he brings the kid to his likin'!"

"Lem's a bad man, Lon, " replied Mrs. Cronk, "and ye be one, too, if yebe my own son, and Flea's your own flesh and blood, and I like her. Itwould be a good thing if ye let her stay to hum while I be a livin'; andI mean what I say, and I'm yer mammy, and that's the truth!"

"Mammy or no mammy, " answered Cronk sullenly, "Flea goes to Lem, and yemakes her a pork cake, which she can hog down at one gulp, for all Icare--the damn brat! I say it, and Lem says it. He'll dry her tearsafter she's left hum, I'm a guessin'!"

Seeing the futility of arguing the question, Mrs. Cronk placed the fishand beans on his plate and, with a shrill cry to Flea and Flukey, satdown to eat. 

 * * * * *

As he stumbled along the rocks to the scow, Lem Crabbe uttered darkthreats against the girl who had bitten him. Her temper and thespontaneous deed that had marked his face did not lessen his longing tocall her his woman, nor did it take the fever of desire from his veins. It had strengthened his passion to such a degree that he now determinedto permit nothing to interfere with his plans. For at least three yearshe had lived on the promise of Lon Cronk that he should have the girlfor weal or woe. Six months before he had offered Lon anything withinhis power to set the day of Flea's coming to him nearer; but the thiefhad shaken his head with the thought that Flea as a girl would notsuffer through indignities as she would as a woman. He felt no remorsefor the other girl that he had ruined so many years back; but he keptout of the way of the crazy woman who sometimes crossed his path. 

Tonight Lem entered the living-room of his boat, muttering an oath thatended in a groan, dropped the basket on the table, and struck a match. He was touching it to the candle, when a sound in the corner startledhim. He turned as he finished his task and saw the brilliant eyes ofScraggy's cat as the animal sat perched on the woman's shoulder. Thepresence of Screech Owl surprised him so that he did not move for amoment, and she spoke first:

"I hain't seed ye in such a long time, Lem, that I thought I'd come andlet ye see my new kitty. He ain't but two years old. "

Lem took a long breath. At first he thought that this must be Scraggy'swraith come to haunt him after some horrible lonely death. He had farrather deal with a living Scraggy than a dead one, and at once recoveredhis composure. 

"I hain't sent for ye, have I?" he asked, hanging up his coat. "And if Iain't sent for ye, then ye needn't be sneakin' round. "

"I've a lot to say to ye, " sighed Scraggy mournfully, "and I thought ashow the night was better than the day. It's dark now. "

"Then ye'd better trot hum, " put in Lem, "if ye don't want anotherbeatin'. "

"I ain't goin' to get no beatin' tonight, " assured the woman, throwingone arm over the bristling cat, "'cause I comed to tell ye somethin'. "

Lem turned on her sharply; for Scraggy seemed to speak sanely. 

"The bats be gone from my brain, Lem, and I want to tell ye somethin''bout Flea--Flea Cronk--and to tell ye that I be hungry. "

"What about Flea?" snapped Lem. "Ye're bein' hungry ain't nothin' to dowith me. If ye got somethin' to tell me that I want to hear, lip it out, and then scoot; for I ain't no time to bother with ye. My time'sprecious, Scraggy--see?"

"Yep; but I ain't goin' to tell ye nothin' till ye give me somethin' toeat. "

She cast ravenous eyes on the small bundles Lem was placing on thetable. 

"I'll give ye a piece of bread an' 'lasses, " was the grudging answer. "And mind ye, I wouldn't do that but I want to hear what ye say 'boutFlea. "

Avidly the woman ate the thick slice of bread and treacle, offering abit now and then to the cat. When she had devoured it Lem spoke:

"Now wash it down with this here water and tell me yer tale--and if yelie to me I'll kill ye!"

"I ain't a goin' to lie to ye--I'll tell ye the truth, I will!"

They both drank, the man from the bottle, the woman from a tin cup. Presently she asked:

"Be ye goin' to marry Flea Cronk?"

"Who's been carryin' tales to ye?" shouted Lem, bounding from his chair. "Ye better be a mindin' yer own affairs, or ye'll be havin' nothin' butbats in yer head till ye die. Scoot for hum! Ye hear?"

"Yep; but I ain't goin' jest yet. Ye want to hear 'bout Flea, don't ye?"

"Yep. "

"Then set down an' I'll tell ye. "

Lem, growling impatience, seated himself. 

"Flea Cronk ain't for you, Lem!"

"Who said as how she ain't?" demanded Lem, starting up. The cat spatviciously, startled by the sudden movement. "I wish ye'd left that damncat to hum! I hain't no notion to be bit by no cat. "

"Kitty won't bite ye if ye let me alone--will ye, Kitty? I ain't neverafeard of nothin' when I got him with me--be I, Kitty, pretty pussy?"

"Stop a cooin', ye bughouse woman, " snarled Crabbe, "and tell me what yegot to!"

"I said Flea wasn't for you. "

"Ye lie!"

He made a desperate move toward her; but the cat rose threateningly, itshair standing on end in a mound upon the humped back. Lem fell away withan oath, and Scraggy, smiling wanly, petted the vicious brute. 

"I said ye was to keep away, Lem. Wait till I get done. Flea's got to besome 'un else's, not yers. "

"Who's?" Lem's voice rose; but he did not advance toward her. 

"I dunno; but I seed him. He rides a black horse, and has a fine, bigbody and wears yeller boots. This afternoon when the day was darkenin' Isaw him from the railroad bed, and I saw Flea's spirit a travelin' withhim. I know that ye cared for her this long time back; but ye can't haveher. "

"Who be the feller?" demanded Lem, frowning. 

"I said I didn't know, and I don't. "

"Were Flea with him?"

"Nope; not in her body, but jest in her spirit. "

"Rats! Scoot along with ye, and take yer cat and get out!"

Scraggy had not noticed the blood oozing from Lem's, cheek until she hadreceived her dismissal. She passed a long, red, bare arm about theanimal and asked:

"Who bit yer cheek, Lem?"

"Who says it were bit?"

"I say it. I see white teeth a goin' in it. And I see red lips ag'in' itwith deadly hate. "

Lem glanced forbiddingly at the woman. "The bats be a comin' again, " hemuttered, "and there ain't no tellin' what she'll do. If it wasn't forthat blasted cat, I'd chuck her in the lake!"

But he dared not carry out his threat; for Scraggy was muttering toherself, the cat rebuffing her rough handling. 

In another minute she rose and made toward the steps. Her eyes fell uponLem, and sanity flashed back into them. 

"I gived the boy to the woman--with golden hair, " she stammered, as ifsome power were forcing the words from her. "Ye would have killed him. Yer kid be a livin', Lem!"

Truth rang in her statement, and the man got to his feet abruptly. Hehad almost forgotten the black-haired little boy. Only when Scraggy'sname was mentioned to him did he remember. But the woman's words awoke anew feeling in his heart, and mentally he counted back the years to thedate of his son's birth. Scraggy was still looking at him inbewilderment, scarcely realizing that her story had been told to theenemy of her child. She battled with a desire to blurt out the wholetruth; but the man's next words silenced her. 

"Who be the golden-haired woman, Scraggy?" he wheedled. 

"What woman--what golden-haired woman?"

"The woman who has our brat. "

Like lightning a sudden joy filled Scraggy's heart. Her benumbed lovefor Lem Crabbe grew mighty in a moment and rushed over her. His wordswere softly spoken with an old-time inflection. She sank down with acry. She was so near him that the cat rose and spat venomously. Lem'scurses brought Scraggy out of her dreams. 

"Chuck that damn cat to the bank, " ordered Lem, "if ye want to stay withme! Do ye hear? Chuck him out!"

"Nope, I ain't a goin' to! I'm goin' hum. "

"Not till ye tell me where the boy is. Didn't ye throw him in theriver?"

"Nope. "

"What did ye do with him?"

"Gived him away. "

"Ye lie! That winder was open, and the river was dark as hell. Yethrowed him in, I tell ye!"

"Nope; I gived him to a woman--"

She stopped and edged toward the stairs, all her old fear of himreturning. Reaching the short flight, she bounded up, the cat clingingto her sleeve. Lem did not follow; for the crazy woman had frightenedhim. He stood with hushed breath, holding grimly to the wooden table. Avoice from the deck of the scow came down to him. 

"I gived him to a rich woman on a yacht. He's rich with mints of money. Yer kid's a gentleman, Lem Crabbe!"

He sprang after her to the deck; but nothing greeted him save the cry ofan owl from the ragged rocks and the glistening green of the cat's eyesas Scraggy hurried away. 

CHAPTER SIX

After eating his supper, Lon, sullen and moody, looked out upon thelake, reviewing in his mind the terrible revenge he was soon tocomplete. He took his pipe slowly from his pocket and filled it withcoarse tobacco. Soon gray rings lifted themselves to the ceiling andfaded into the rafters. As the smoke curled upward, his mind became busywith the past, and so vivid was his imagination that outlined in thesmoke rings that floated about him was a girlish face--a face pale andwan, but a loving, sweet one to him. He could see the fair curls whichclung close to the head; the eyes, serious but kind, seemed to strikehis memory in unforgotten glances. To another than himself thesmoke-formed face would have been plain, perhaps ugly, the weakness ofher race showing in every feature; but not to him. So intent was he withthese thoughts that the present dissolved completely into the past, andbeside him stood a small, fond woman. In his imagination she had risenfrom that grave which he had never been able to find in the Potter'sField. The personality of his dead wife called upon his senses and madeitself as necessary to him then as in the moment of his first rapturewhen she had placed her womanly might upon his soul. 

His revenge upon Floyd Vandecar would be finished when the gray-eyedFlea, so like her own father, went away with the one-armed man, to ekeout her destiny amid the squalor of the thief's home. 

For months he had been enthralled with the satisfaction of the last actin the one terrible drama of his life; for it had played with his rudefancy as a tigress does with her prey, inflaming his hatred and keepingalive his desire for retaliation. Flukey was a good thief, althoughobeying him at the end of the lash, and Flea would receive her portionof hate's penalty on her fifteenth birthday. 

Cronk did not heed the pitter-patter of his mother's feet as she clearedthe table, nor did he hear the droning of the twin's voices in the loftabove. He was thinking of how the dead woman with her child--his child, the one small atom he would have loved better than himself--would bewell avenged when Flea went away with Lem. 

Lon had kept track of the doings of the young district attorney. He knewthat he had gone to the gubernatorial chair but the year before. Thesquatter smiled gloomily as he remembered the words of a newspaperfriendly to Vandecar, in which he had read that Syracuse was full ofpainful memories for the new governor, and that Floyd Vandecar had takenhis family down the Hudson, to make another home at Tarrytown, whereHarold Brimbecomb, a youthful friend, resided. Another expression ofdark gratification flitted over Lon's heavy features as he reviewedagain the purport of the article. It had plainly said that in the newhome there would be fewer visions of a lost boy and girl to haunt theafflicted parents. Lon realized in his savage heart that the change ofscene would not lessen the grief of the stricken family. It was his onesatisfaction to brood over the bereaved father and mother, delighting inhis part of the tragedy and enjoying every evidence of it. Never for amoment did he think gently of the children, but only of the womansacrificed. On this night she stood so close that, with a groan, he putout his hand. His flesh tingled; for he felt that he could almost touchher, and his heart clamored for the warmth of the tender body he hadnever forgotten. 

"God!" he moaned between his teeth, "if I could tech her once, jest foronce, I'd let Flea stay to hum!"

"Did ye speak, Lon?" asked Granny Cronk. 

"Nope; I were only a thinkin'. "

"Have ye changed yer mind 'bout Flea?"

"Nope, Mammy, and ye keep yer mouth shet if ye want me to stay to hum!See?"

Granny Cronk grunted a reply, and passed into the back room. Fiveminutes later the rope cot creaked under her weight. 

Wrapped in his somber musings, Lon did not hear Flea approach him untilshe was at his elbow. With her coming, the sweet phantom, to which hegrimly held in his moments of solitude, fled back to its unknown grave. Never had his loved one been so near, so real; never before had shetouched his writhing nature in all its primeval strength. The girlbefore him was so like the man who had withstood his agony that heclenched his fist and rose from his chair. Flea was looking at him inmute appeal; but before she could speak he had lifted his fist andbrought it down upon the lovely, beseeching face. The blow stunned her;but only a smothered moan fell from her lips. 

"I hate ye!" growled Lon. "Get back to the loft afore I kill ye!"

Slowly Flea was regaining her senses, and the squatter's curses struckher ears like a whiplash. Bitter, scalding tears blinded her as, holdingher thin skirt to her bleeding nose, she stumbled up the ladder. Withanger unappeased, Lon, staggering like one drunken, took his cap fromthe peg and went out. 

 * * * * *

When Lon called Flukey, Flea followed her brother into the night, whilehe arranged the thief's tools in the boat. There was a dull roar andrush of the wind, as it tossed the lake into gigantic whitecaps, whichadded to the girl's suffering. Her young soul was smarting beneath thescathing injustice. As she watched Lem and Lon pull away, with Flukey atthe rudder, Flea squatted on the beach, bent her head, and wept long andwildly. 

A gentle, sympathetic touch of a warm tongue made her put out her armsand draw Snatchet into them. It comforted her to feel the faithful heartbeating against her own. That Lon disliked to have her and Flukey abouthim, she knew; but she had not known until today that he hated her. Hehad never before told her so. Flea caught her breath in a gasp, andturned her eyes to a rift in a rock where the scow lay. Only a dark linedistinguished it in the shadows. At the thought that it was to be forcedupon her for a home, she cried again, and Snatchet, from his haven ofrest, lifted his pointed yellow nose and wailed dismally, striving withall his dog's soul to assuage her unusual grief. 

The distant sound of a hoot-owl startled Flea from her tears. It was afamiliar sound to her and came as a call from a friend. 

Creeping into the low woodshed, Flea took up a bundle of fagots from thecorner, and, closing the door on Snatchet that he might not follow her, mounted the hill with the wood under her arm. Once at the top of thelane, she opened her lips and echoed the hoot. She passed through athicket of sumac into a clearing where a number of sheep were huddledtogether in the cold night air. An answer came back almost instantlyfrom the ragged rocks, and, squatting in a hollow, Flea sat patientlyuntil the branches broke below her. A woman with tangled hair camecreeping cautiously forward. 

"Who be there?" she whispered. 

"It's Flea, Screech Owl. Be the bats a runnin' in yer head?"

"Yep, child, " the woman answered mournfully. "The fagots be given out, too, and I'm a huntin' of 'em. The night's cold. "

"I was lookin' for ye this afternoon, Screechy, " said Flea. "Set down. "

The lean, half-starved woman dropped beside the girl. Flea put out herhand and smoothed down the rough hair on Scraggy's black cat. Theanimal, usually so vicious, purred in delight, rubbing his nose againstthe girl's hand. 

"Air the little Flea wantin' the owl to tell her somethin'?"

"Yep, " replied Flea doubtfully. 

"And ye brought yer old Screechy a little present?"

"Yep. "

"What?"

"Some fagots to keep ye warm, Screechy. "

"Where be they?"

"Here by my side. "

"Ye be a good Flea, " cackled Screechy. "Be ye in trouble?"

"Yep. So be Flukey. Can ye tell me anything 'bout Flukey?"

The woman frowned. "Flukey, Flukey, yer brother, " she repeated. "I ain'ta likin' boys, 'cause they throw stones at me. "

"Flukey never throwed no stones at ye, Screechy, an' he's unhappy now. He'll bring ye a lot more fagots sometime to heat yer bones by. "

"Aye, I'm a needin' heat. My bones be stiff, and my blood's nothin' butwater, and my eyes ain't seein' nothin'. "

"Don't they see things in the dark, " asked the girl, superstitiously, "ghosts and things?"

"Aye, Flea; and the things I see now I'll tell ye if they be good orbad--mind ye, good or bad!"

"Good or bad, " repeated Flea. 

At length, after a silence, the girl broke forth. "Air Flukey in yereyes, Screechy?"

"Yep, Flea, and so be you; but there ain't much for ye, savin' that yego a long journey lookin' for a good land. "

Bending her head nearer, Flea coaxed, "What good land, Screechy dear?"

"Yer's and Flukey's, Flea. "

"Where air it?"

"Down behind the college hill, many a stretch for yer short legs fromthe squatter's settlement, and many a day when bread's short and water'splenty, many a night when the cold'll bite yer legs, and many a tear--"

"Be we leavin' Pappy Lon?" demanded the girl. 

"Yep. "

"Forever and forever?"

"For Flukey, yep; but for yerself--"

Flea stared in speechless wonder and fright. "I don't want to staywithout Flukey!" she cried. 

"I ain't a tellin' ye what ye want to do; only how the shadders run. Butthat's a weary day off. The good land be yers and Flukey's for theseekin' of it. "

"Air Flukey goin' to be catched a thievin'?"

"Yep, some day. "

"With Pappy Lon?"

"Nope, with yerself, Flea. "

"I ain't no thief, " replied Flea sulkily. "I ain't never took nothin', not so much as a chicken! And Flukey wouldn't nuther if Pappy Lon didn'tmake him. "

From behind Screech Owl's shrouding gray hair two black eyes glittered. 

"The good land, the good land!" whispered the madwoman. "It be allcomin' for yerself and Flukey. "

[Illustration: "AM I ON THE RIGHT ROAD TO GLENWOOD?"]

"Be I goin' to--" Flea sat back on her bare toes, her face suddenlydarkening with rage. "I won't go with him! I won't, Screechy, if he wasin every old eye in yer head! I won't, so there!"

The darkness hid from Screech Owl the glint in Flea's eyes. 

"Who be it Lon said you was goin' with, Flea?"

Scraggy must have forgotten her conversation with Lem but an hour or twobefore; for she evinced no knowledge of any man interested in Flea. 

"A one-armed man. Pappy says I'm to be his woman. Be I, Screechy?"

"Nope; but I see a hook a whirlin' in the air into the good land, awhirlin' and a whirlin' after ye. I see it a stealin' on ye in the nightwhen ye think ye're safe. I see the sharp p'int of it a stickin' intoyer soft flesh--"

"Don't, don't!" pleaded Flea in a smothered voice. "Ye said as how Iwere goin' with Flukey to a good land down behind the college hill. "

"So ye be, " assented the Owl; "but after ye get to the good land thesharp p'int of the hook'll come and rip at ye. I see it a haulin' yeback away from them what ye loves--"

Flea grasped the woman's arm between her fingers and pressed nearerScraggy with a startled cry. The cat, hissing, lashed a bushy tail fromside to side. His eyes flashed green, and a cry came from Flea's lips. In another instant she was speeding away down the rocks. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

At three o'clock the next morning a boat left the lighthouse at the headof Cayuga Lake and was rowed toward the western shores. As before, twomen and a boy were in it. The lad was still at the rudder, while the menswiftly cut the water stroke by stroke. For three miles down the lake noone spoke; but when the boat scraped the shore in front of his hut Lonbroke the silence. 

"It weren't a bad haul tonight, were it, Lem?" he said almost jovially. "And tomorry ye come up to the shanty for the dividin'. Ye know Iwouldn't cheat a hair o' yer head, don't ye, Lem?"

"Yep, ye bet I know it! And I'm that happy 'cause I'm to take yer gal aSaturday that I could give ye the hull haul tonight, Lon. "

"Ye needn't do that, Lem. I give ye Flea 'cause I want ye to have her, and I know that you'll make her stand round and mind ye, and if shedon't--"

"Then I'll make her!" put in Lem darkly. "She'll give back no more bitesfor my kisses when I get her! I had a woman a long time ago, and whenshe didn't mind me I beat her, and beat her and beat her hard! That'sthe way to do with women folks!"

"Ye had Scraggy, didn't ye, Lem?" asked Lon, heaping his arm with hisclothing. 

Flukey stood silently by, his pale face ghastly in the thin, yellowmoonlight. 

"Yep; but Scraggy wasn't no good. I didn't like her. I do like Flea, and I'd stick to her, too. I'd marry her if ye'd say the word. "

"Nope, I ain't a askin' ye to marry her. Yer jest make her stand around, and break her spirit if ye can. Flea ain't like Flukey; she's hard tobeat a thing out of. "

"I know how to handle her!" answered Lem. The silent laughter in histhroat ended in a grunt. He slung a small basket over the hook and wentoff up the rocks to his scow. 

"Ye can go to bed, Flukey, " said Lon. "Ye've done a good night'swork--and mind ye it ain't wicked to take what ye want from them havin'plenty. "

Lon hesitated before proceeding. "And, Flukey, if ye know what's goodfor Flea, don't be settin' her up ag'in' my wishes, 'cause if she don'tdo what I tell her it'll be the worse for her!... Scoot to bed!"

The boy stood for a moment, opened his lips to plead with the big, sullen squatter for his sister; but, changing his mind, limped off tothe cabin. 

 * * * * *

When the shanty was quiet a girl's figure shrouded in black curlscrawled across the hut floor to the loft ladder. Flea ascended quickly;but halted at the top to catch her breath. She could hear from the otherside of the partition the sound of Lon's heavy snores, and from thecorner came the lighter breathing of her brother. Through the small loftwindow the moonbeams shone, and by them Flea could see the boy's darkhead and strong young arm under the masses of thick hair. 

She began to crawl toward the cot, wriggling like a huge worm across thebare boards. Several times she paused, trying to suppress her frightenedheartbeats. Then, lifting her hand, she placed it over Flukey's mouthand whispered:

"Fluke, Fluke, wake up! It's Flea!"

Flukey made no movement to dislodge his tightly pressed lips from thetrembling fingers. The gray eyes flashed open; but the lad lay perfectlystill. 

"Fluke, " breathed Flea, "I'm goin' to the cave. Slip on yer pants, anddon't wake Granny Cronk nor Pappy Lon!"

If it had not been that the boy pressed his fingers on the blanket, Fleawould have wondered if her brother had heard. 

The lithe form had crept back to the ladder and had disappeared beforeFlukey slipped quietly from his bed and drew on the blue-jeans overalls. As he stole through the kitchen, he could hear the snorts of GrannyCronk coming from the back room. The outside door stood partly open, andwithout hesitation he passed through and closed it after him that thewind might not slam it. Then he limped along under the shore trees, up alittle hill, and dropped out of sight into an open cavern, where Flea, acandle in her hand, sat in semidarkness. 

The cave had been the children's playground ever since they couldremember. Here they had come to weep over indignities heaped upon themin childhood; here they had come in joy and in sorrow, and now, insecret conclave in the early hours of the morning, they had come again. 

"Ye're here!" said Flea in feverish haste. "I feared ye'd go to sleepagain. "

"Nope; I allers come when ye want me, Flea. "

"Did ye steal tonight?"

"Yep. "

"What did ye get?"

The boy shuddered, and a strange, hunted expression came into his eyes. "Spoons, knives, clothes, and things, " said he; "and I'd ruther be toreto pieces by wild bulls than ever steal again!"

His voice was toned with an unnatural ring. Wonderingly, Flea drewcloser to him, the candle dripping white, round drops hot on the brownhand. 

"But Pappy Lon says as how ye must steal, don't he?" she askedpresently. 

"Yep, and as how you must go with Lem. "

"I won't, I won't! Pappy Lon can kill me first!"

She said this in passionate anger; but, upon holding the candle close toFlukey's face, she exclaimed:

"Fluke, don't look like that--it scares me!"

He was piercing the dark ends of the cave, his eyes colored like steel. They were softened only by shots of brown, which ran like chainlightning through them. The girl's gaze followed her brother's timidly;for he looked ahead, as if he saw something that threatened her and him. In spite of her soft touch, the boy looked on and on in his unyieldingfierceness at the fast approaching inevitable, which he had not beenable to stem. That day a change had been ordered in their lives, and ithad come upon him in the shape of a mental blow that hurt him far worsethan if Pappy Lon had flogged him throughout the night. 

"If Pappy Lon sends me next Saturday to Lem, " Flea ventured in anundertone, "then ye can't help me much, can ye, Fluke?"

The muscles of the boy's face relaxed, and he drew his knee up to hischest. "When my leg ain't lame I'm strong enough to lick Lem, if--if--"

"Nope; I ain't no notion for ye to lick him yet, Fluke. Do ye believe inthe sayin's of Screech Owl?"

"Ye mean--"

"Do ye believe what she says when the bats be a flyin' round in herhead, and when she sees the good land for you and myself, Flukey?"

"Did she say somethin' 'bout a good land for us, Flea?"

"Yep. "

"Where's the good land?"

"Down behind the college hill, many a stretch from here--and, Flukey, Iain't a goin' to Lena's, and ye ain't likin' to be a thief. Will ye comeand find the good land with me?"

"Girls can't run away like boys can. They ain't able to bear hurt. "

Flea dropped her head with a blush of shame. She knew well that Flukeycould perform wonderful feats which she had been unable to do. Grandma'mCronk had told her that her dresses made the difference between herability and Flukey's. With this impediment removed, she could turn herface toward the shining land predicted by Scraggy for Flukey andherself; she could follow her brother over hills and into valleys, untilat last--

"I could wear a pair of yer pants and be a boy, too, and you could chopoff my hair, " she exclaimed. "All I want ye to do is to grow to be a manquick, and to lick Lem Crabbe if he comes after me. Will ye? Screechysays he's goin' to follow me. "

"I'll lick him anywhere, " cried the boy, his tears rising; "and if yehas to go to him, and he as much as lays a finger on ye, I'll kill him!"

His face was so rigidly drawn during his last threat that he hissed thewords out through his teeth. 

"Then ye'd get yer neck stretched, " argued Flea, "and I ain't a goin' tohim. We be goin' away to the good land down behind the college hill. "

"When?" demanded Flukey. 

"Tonight, " replied Flea. "Ye go and get some duds for me, --a shirt andthe other pair of yer jeans. Crib Granny's shears to cut my hair off. Then we'll start. See? And we ain't never comin' back. Pappy Lon hatesme, and he's licked ye all he's goin' to. Git along and crib the duds!"

She rose to her feet, nervously breaking away the little rivers ofgrease that had hardened upon her hand and wrist. 

"Ye've got to get into the hut in the dark, " she said, "and then yestand at the mouth of the cave while I put on the things. "

"How be we goin' to live when we go?" asked Flukey dully, making no moveto obey her. 

"We'll live in the good land where there be lots of bread and 'lasses, "she soothed; "the two dips in the dish at one time--jest think of that, ole skate!"

He tried to smile at her forced jocularity; but the hunted expressionsaddened his eyes again. To these children, brought up animal-like inthe midst of misery and hate, their world revolved round their stomachs, too often empty. But this new trouble--the terror of Flea's going withLem--had made a man of Flukey, and bread and molasses sank intooblivion. He was ready to shield her from the thief with his life. 

"Get along!" ordered Flea. 

Instead of obeying, the boy sat down on a rounded stone. "I'd a runnedaway along ago, if it hadn't been, for you, Flea. "

"I know that you love me, " said the girl brokenly; "I know that, allright!"

"I couldn't have stood Pappy Lon nor Lem nor none of the rest, " groanedFlukey, "and I was to tell ye tonight to let me go, and I would comeback for ye; but if ye be made to go with Lem--"

"That makes ye take me with you, " gasped Flea eagerly. "Huh?"

"Yep, that makes me take ye with me, Flea; but if we go mebbe sometimeswe have to go without no bread. "

There was warning in his tones; for he had heard stories of other ladswho had left the settlement and had returned home lank, pale, andhungry. 

"I've been out o' bread here, " encouraged Flea. "Granny's put me to bedmany a time, and no supper. Get along, will ye?"

"Yep, I'm goin'; but I can't leave Snatchet. We can take my dorg, Flea. Where's he gone?"

"We'll take him, " promised Flea. "He's in the wood-house. Scoot and getthe duds and him!"

The boy toiled up the rocks to the top of the cave, and Flea heard hisdeparting steps for a moment, then seated herself in tremulous fear. 

Flukey pushed open the cabin door, listened a moment, and stepped in. Nosound save of loud breathing came from the back room where the old womanslept. At the top of the ladder he could hear Lon snoring loudly. Flukeycrawled upon his knees to a small box against the wall. He pulled out apair of brown overalls and a blue shirt, and with great caution creptback. Almost before Flea realized that he had gone, he was in the caveagain with Snatchet in his arms, displaying his plunder. 

"Put 'em on quick!" ordered Flukey. "Here, hold still!" As he spoke, hegathered Flea's black curls into his fingers and cut them off boylike toher head. "If Pappy Lon catches us, " he went on, "he'll knock hell outof us both. "

The girl, having surrendered her spirit of command, crawled into thetrousers and donned the blue shirt. After extinguishing the candle, which Flukey slipped into his pocket, they clambered out of the cave, leaving the rocky floor strewn with locks of hair, and stole softlyalong the shore toward the college hill. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Horace Shellington, newly fledged attorney and counsellor-at-law, sat inhis luxurious library, his feet cocked upon the desk in true bachelorfashion. He was apparently deep in thought, his handsome head restingagainst the back of the chair, when his meditations were broken by aknock at the door. 

"Come in. Is it you, Sis?" he said. 

"Yes, Dear, " was the answer as the girl entered. "Everett wants us to goin his party to the Dryden fair. Would you like to?"

Horace glanced up quizzically and smiled as the blush mounted to herfair hair. "The question, Ann dear, rests with you. "

"I never tire being with Everett, " Ann said slowly. 

"That's because you're in love with him, Sis. When a girl is in love shealways wants to be with the lucky chap. "

"And doesn't he want to be with her?" demanded Ann eagerly. 

"Of course. And, Ann, I shouldn't ask for a better fellow than Everettis, only that I don't want you to leave me right away. Without you, Dear, I think I should die of the blue devils!"

"Do you want me to stay at home until you, too, get ready to marry?" Annasked laughingly. "I'm afraid I should never have a chance to helpEverett make a home if you did; for you simply won't like any of thegirls I know. "

"I want to get well started in my profession before I think ofmarrying. I am happy over the fact that I have been able to enterVandecar's law office. He's the strongest man in the state in his line, and it means New York for me some day. Vandecar is even more powerfulthan Brimbecomb. "

"I'm glad for you, Horace, because it seems to me that you have anopportunity that few men have. Nothing can ever keep you back! And youare so very young, Dear!"

"No, nothing can keep me back now, Ann. Sit down, do. "

"Not now, Dear; I'll run away from you, and tell Everett that you willgo to Dryden with us--and I do hope that the weather will be fine!"

Ann tripped out, her heart light with contentment. Her star of happinesshad reached its zenith when Everett Brimbecomb had asked her to be hiswife. Rich in her own right, of the bluest blood in the state, soon tomarry the man who had been her ideal since their childhood days, whyshould she not be happy?

After leaving Horace, Ann went to the side window and tapped upon it. Receiving no response, she lifted the sash and called softly to herfiancé. Hearing her voice, Everett Brimbecomb appeared at the oppositewindow. The girl's heart thrilled with happiness as he smiled upon her. 

"Run over a minute, Everett, " she called. 

"All right, dear heart. "

His voice was so vibrantly low and rich that the girl experienced afeeling of thanksgiving as she stood waiting for him at the door. Whenhe came, the lovers went into the drawing-room, where a grate fireburned dim. 

"Horace says he'll go to Dryden, Everett, " Ann announced, "and I'm soglad! I thought he might say that he was too busy. "

Everett smiled, slipped his arm about the girl's waist, and for a momentshe leaned against him like a frail, sweet flower. 

Presently Ann noticed that a shadow had settled on her lover's face. Womanlike, she questioned him. 

"Is there anything the matter, Dear?" she asked, drawing him to thedivan. 

"Nothing serious. I've been talking with Father. "

"Yes?"

She waited for him to continue; but he sat silent, wrapped in thoughtfor a long minute. At last, however, he spoke gloomily:

"Ann, I wish I knew who my own people were. "

"Aren't you satisfied with those you have, Everett?" There was sweetreproof in the girl's tones. 

"More than satisfied, " he said; "but somehow I feel--no I won't say it, Ann. It would seem caddish to you. "

"Nothing you could say to me would seem that, " she answered. 

Everett rose and walked up and down the room. "Well, it seems to methat, although the blood of the Brimbecomb's is blue, mine is bluerstill; that, while they have many famous ancestors, I have still moreillustrious ones. I feel sometimes a longing to run wild and dounheard-of things, and to make men know my strength, to--well, tovirtually turn the world upside down. "

A frightened look leaped into the girl's eyes. He was so vehement, sopassionate, so powerful, that at times she felt how inferior intemperment she was to him. Her heart swelled with gratitude when sherealized that he belonged to her and to her alone. How good God hadbeen! And every day in the solitude of her chamber she had thanked theGiver of every gift for this perfect man--since he was perfect to her. In a few moments she rose and walked beside him, longing to enter intothe hidden ambitions of his heart, to read his innermost thoughts. Everett appreciated her feeling. Again he passed his arm around her, andfor a time they paced to and fro, each thankful for the love that hadbecome the chief thing in life. 

"I have an idea, Ann, " began Everett presently, "that my mother willknow me by the scar on me here. " He raised his fingers to his shoulderand drew them slowly downward as he continued. "And I know that she issome wild, beautiful thing different from any other woman living. AndI've pictured my father in my mind's eyes a million times, since I havefound out I am not really Everett Brimbecomb. "

"But Mr. And Mrs. Brimbecomb have done everything for you--"

"So they have, " broke in Everett; "but a chap wants to know his ownflesh and blood, and, since Mother told me that I was not her own son, I've looked into the face of every woman I've seen and wondered if myown mother was like her. I don't want to seem ungrateful; but if theywould only tell me more I could rest easier. " A painful pucker settledbetween his brows. 

"Sit down here, Everett, " Ann urged, "and tell me if you have ever triedto find them. "

"I asked my fath--Mr. Brimbecomb today. " His faltering words and thechange of appellation shocked Ann; but she did not chide him, for he wasspeaking again. "I told him that, now I was through college and had beenadmitted to the bar, I insisted upon knowing who my own people were. Buthe said that I must ask his wife; that she knew, and would tell me, ifshe desired me to know. I promised him long ago that I would register inhis law office at the same time that Horace went to Vandecar's. Confoundit, Ann!--I beg your pardon, but I feel as if I had been created forsomething more than to drone over petty cases in a law office. "

"But, Everett, it has been understood ever since you went to Cornellthat you should enter Mr. Brimbecomb's office. You would not fail himnow that he is so dependent upon you?"

"Of course not; I intend to work with him. But I tell you this, Ann, that I am determined to find my own people at whatever cost!"

"Did you ask Mrs. Brimbecomb about them?"

"Yes; but she cried so that I stopped--and so it goes! Well, Dear, Idon't want to worry you. It only makes a little more work for me, that'sall. But, when I do find them, I shall be the proudest man in all theworld. "

Ann rose to her feet hastily. "Here comes Horace! Let's talk over thefair--and now, Dear, I must kiss away those naughty lines between youreyes this moment. I don't want my boy to feel sad. "

She kissed him tenderly, and turned to meet her brother. 

"I was tired of staying in there alone, " said Horace. "Hello, Everett!It was nice of you, old chap, to ask me along to Dryden. That's my onefailing in the fall--I always go. Let me see--you didn't go last year, did you, Everett?"

"No; but I knew that Ann wanted to go this year, and I thought a partywould be pleasant. I asked Katherine Vandecar; but her aunt is such aninvalid that Katherine can scarcely ever leave her. "

"Mrs. Vandecar is ill, " said Ann. "I called there yesterday, and she isthe frailest looking woman I ever saw. "

"She's never got over the loss of her children, " rejoined Everett. "It'shard on Vandecar, too, to have her ill. He looks ten years older than heis. "

"Yes; but their little Mildred is such a comfort to them both!"interjected Ann. "They watch the child like hawks. I suppose it's onlynatural after their awful experience. Isn't it strange that two childrencould disappear from the face of the earth and not a word be heard fromthem in all these years?"

"They're probably dead, " replied Horace gently, and silence fell uponthem. 

CHAPTER NINE

Flea and Flukey Cronk, followed by the yellow dog, made their wayfarther and farther from Ithaca. They had left the university in thedistance, when a dim streak of light warned them that day wasapproaching. It was here that Flea lagged behind her brother. 

"Ye're tired, Flea, " said Flukey. 

"Yep. "

"Will ye crawl into a haystack if we come to one?"

"Yep. "

They spoke no more until, farther on, a farmhouse, with dark barns inthe rear, loomed up before them. 

"Ye wait here, Flea, " said Flukey, "till I see where we can sleep. "

After an absence of a few minutes he returned and in silence conductedthe girl by a roundabout way to a newly piled stack of hay. 

"I burried a place for us both, " he whispered. "Ye crawl in first, Flea, and I'll bring in Snatchet. Lift yer leg up high and ye'll find thehole. "

A minute later they were tucked away from the cold morning, their smallfaces overshadowed by the new-mown hay, and here, through the morninghours, they slept soundly. Then again they set forth, and it was late inthe afternoon when they drew up before the high fence encircling thefair-grounds at Dryden. The fall fair was in full blast. Crowds werepassing in and out of the several gates. With longing heart, first Flea, then Flukey, placed an eye to a knothole, to watch the proceedingsinside. Rows of sleek cattle waved their blue and red ribbons jauntilyin the breeze; fat pigs, with the owners' names pasted on the cards infront, grunted in small pens. For a time the twins stood side by side, wishing with all their might that they were possessed of the necessaryentrance-fee. 

"If I could get a job, " said Flukey, "we could get in. "

"I could work, too, " said Flea, her hands dug deep in her trouserspockets. 

Just then a man hailed them. "Want to get in, Kids?" he asked. 

"Yep!" bawled Flea and Flukey in unison, their hunger forgotten in thisnew delight. 

"Then help me carry in those boards, and then you can stay in. "

Flukey looked apprehensively at Flea. 

"Ye ain't a boy--"

"Shet up!" snapped Flea. "My pants're as long as your'n, and I be a boytill we get to the good land. Heave a board on my shoulder, Fluke. "

They slid through the opening in the fence made to pass in the lumber, and for ten minutes aided their new friend by carrying plank after plankinto the fair-grounds. When the work was done they stood awe-stricken, looking at the gorgeous surroundings. Flags waved aloft on eachbuilding; yards of bunting roped in exhibits of all kinds. Everywherepersons were walking to and fro. But still the squatter children stoodmotionless and stared with wide-open eyes at such an array of goodthings as had never before gladdened their sight. Then, after thestrangeness had somewhat worn off, they wandered on, bewildered. Snatchet was hugged tight in Flukey's arms; for other dogs laid backtheir ears and growled at the yellow cur. 

[Illustration: "THEN THEY COMED AN' TOOK ME AWAY FOR STEALIN'. "]

Suddenly they came upon the athletic field. Here, reared high in theair, was a slender greased pole, on the top of which fluttered afive-dollar bill. Several youngsters, dressed in bathing suits, awaitedthe hour when they should be allowed to try and win the money. One afteranother they took their turn, and when an extra spurt up the pole wasmade by some lucky boy the crowd evinced its delight by loud cheers. Time and again the breeze fluttered the coveted money, and yet no boyhad won the prize. 

"I'd like to try it, " said Flukey. 

"If we couldn't get it with bathing suits, you couldn't climb that polewith them long pants, " retorted one of the contestants who stood near. "Look! that kid's goin' to get it, after all!" There was disappointmentin the tones; but the words had no sooner died away than the climberslipped to the ground. 

Flea pinched Flukey's arm. "Be yer knee so twisted that ye can't try, Flukey?"

"Nope, my rheumatiz ain't hurtin' me now. "

"Then shinny up it, Fluke--ye can climb it! Get along there!"

She took the dog from his arms, and the boy went forward when the callcame for another aspirant. 

"I'm goin' to get that there bill!" said Flukey, shutting his teethfirmly. 

He advanced and spoke in an undertone to a man, who, with a grin, shouted out the name, "Mr. F. Cronk. "

The dignity of the prefix made Flukey spit upon his hands before hestarted to climb the pole. Flea came closer and stood almost breathless. Her parted lips showed small, even, white teeth, her eyes glistened, andflashes of red blood crimsoned her face. One suspender slipping from hershoulder, the vicious dog in her arms, the beautiful upturned face, wasas interesting a spectacle as the onlookers had ever seen. It was withbreathless interest that she watched her brother laboriously ascend thepole. 

Flukey was indeed making a masterful climb. But at last he halted; andthen, a moment later, he climbed desperately. The girl on the ground sawhim falter, and knew that he was becoming faint-hearted. To encouragehim, she lifted a voice broken by emotion and shouted:

"Go it, Fluke, go it!... Aw! damn it, he slid!... Go it, ole feller! Gitthere, git there! Ye're almost there, Fluke--git it! It's a dinner--it'sa bone for Snatchet, and we'll eat!... Damn it! he slid again!... Aw!hell!"

Flukey gained the space he had lost in his last slide. Halfway up, hebegan again, the men cheering and the women waving handkerchiefs. Butthe boy had heard only the words from the little figure under the pole. The five dollars did mean a good dinner, and a bone for lean Snatchet. Up, up, and still up, until his fingers grasped the pole very near thetop. 

There he rested for breath. For a few seconds his head drooped on hisshoulders, and absolute quiet reigned below. His slender legs encircledthe pole, and finally, with a painful effort, he lifted out the pinstuck in the bill, grasped the money in his fingers, and instantly slidto the ground. Laughs and cheers roared into the air. Flea had backedaway from the pole, still holding the small dog; but, before she couldget to Flukey, other boys were surrounding him, asking how he had doneit. 

 * * * * *

A sudden shouting came from hundreds of throats. One voice raised abovethe clamor:

"Anyone catching the greased pig, Squeaky, can have him. He's a fineroaster! After him, Boys!"

Over a knoll, his tiny nose swaying in the air, and four short legskicking the dust into clouds, skurried a small pig, coated from head totail with lard. Deftly he slipped for his life through many youthfulhands stretched out to grasp him, and time and again he wriggled fromunder a small boy crouched to stop his progress. He passed thedanger-mark, and in the new stretch of ground, where the spectators werestanding, discerned a chance to escape. 

Flea saw him coming and could detect the terror in the flying littlebeast. Her heart leaped up in answer to the call from something indistress--something she loved, loved because it lived and sufferedthrough terrible fear. She dropped Snatchet and caught the greased pigin her arms. She hugged him up to her breast and, turning flashing eyesupon the people staring at her, said:

"Poor little baby piggy! He's scared almost to death. "

"You've caught the greased pig!" somebody shouted. "You can havehim--he's yours!"

"Ye mean mine to keep?" Flea demanded of the man who had cheered on theboys. 

"Yes, to keep, " was the reply, "and this five-dollar gold-piece becauseyou caught him. "

"I didn't try to catch him, " she said simply. "He jest comed to me'cause he were so afeard. His little heart's a beatin' like as if he'sgoin' to die. I'll keep him, and I thank ye for the money.... Golly! butain't me and Flukey two rich kids? Where's Fluke?"

Just then somebody stepped up behind the girl and touched her on thearm. Flea turned her head and found herself gazing into the kindly eyesand earnest face of her prince. 

Instantly she lost all thought of her brother and Snatchet. The voiceshe had dreamed of was speaking. 

"Little boy, " it said, "I've purchased every year the greased pig of theyoungster who caught him. May I buy him of you? I'll give you anothergold-piece for him. "

Words stuck in Flea's throat, and she only clung closer to the suckling. At last she murmured, "What do ye want with him?"

The man threw back his head and laughed. "Why, to eat him, of course. Wealways have roast pig for dinner the day after the fair. "

Flea dug her toe into the dust and flung up a cloud of it, as her facedrew into a sulky frown. "Well, " she drawled, "ye don't hog down this'un! He's mine!"

"But the money, Boy! Don't you want the money?"

Her heart was beating so fast that she dared not lift her eyes again tohis. Then a lady spoke in a soft voice, and Flea glanced at her. 

"This is Mr. Horace Shellington, " she said, "and if he did not have thepig he would be disappointed. You'll let him buy it, won't you?"

Flea looked into the questioning face of her prince, the face of herdreams, looked again into his smiling eyes, and stood hesitant. Herthoughts flew fast. She remembered the terrified pig, how she had pitiedhim, and how much he wanted to live, to frisk in the sunshine. Shethought of the cruel knife that would reach the tiny heart tappingagainst her own, and threw back her head in defiance. 

"Ye may have e't all the greased pigs in this here country, " she said toShellington; "but ye don't eat this 'un! Ye see, this 'un's mine, andhe's goin' to live, eat, and be happy, that's all!" Although she hadspoken emphatically, her eyes dropped again before the keen gaze bentupon her. To relieve her embarrassment, she turned and shouted, "Flukey, Flukey, come along! Where's Snatchet?"

So great had been Flea's excitement at the catching of the pig that shehad given no heed to the dog. Flukey had handed the little fellow toher, and she had let him go. 

Suddenly an appalling spectacle rose before her. On an elevated spot, afew feet from the greased pole, Snatchet stood poised in view ofhundreds of curious eyes. His short stubby tail had straightened outlike a stick. His nose was lowered almost to the ground. Each yellowhair on his scarred back had risen separate and apart from one another, while his beady eyes glistened greedily. Directly in front of him, staring back with feathers ruffled and drooping wings, was a littlebrown hen, escaped from her coop. She was eying Snatchet impudently, daring him to approach her by perking her wee head saucily first on oneside and then on the other. Snatchet, pressed on by hunger beating athis lean sides, slid rigidly a pace nearer. A cry went up from achildish voice. 

"He'll kill my Queen Bess! Father--Oh! Father!"

Flukey's voice, calling to his dog, rose high above the clamor. Suddenlythe little hen turned tail and flew across over the soft earth, utteringfrightened cackles; but her flight was slow compared to Snatchet's. Hecame scurrying behind her, snapping a tail feather loose with eachonward bound, utterly oblivious of the two strong voices calling hisname. 

The little hen wove a precarious path through coops of chatteringchickens, and Snatchet, bent upon his prey, added to the din. He had noway of knowing the twists and turns to be taken by his small brownvictim, and it was only by making sharp corners that Queen Bess keptclear of the snapping teeth. Men were running to and fro for somethingto beat off the yellow invader. The girl's voice had settled to a cry, and, just as Flukey, panting and tired, reached the dog, Snatchetsnapped up the hen, shook her fiercely, and settled down to his meal. Inan instant Flukey had dragged the beating body from his teeth, kickedhim soundly with his bare foot, and held out the dead hen to a man whoseface was darkened by anger. The young mistress of the feathered queenwas clinging, sobbing, to his hand. 

"Is that your dog?" Flea heard the man ask, pointing to Snatchet underthe squatter boy's arm. 

"Yep. "

"Do you understand that he killed my little girl's prize hen?"

"The dog ought to die, too!" cried a voice from the people. 

Her brother's sorrowful attitude made Flea press Flukey's armsoothingly. 

"So he ought to die!" said another. 

"He were hungry, " explained Flukey, turning on Snatchet's accuser. "Mister, if ye'll let my dorg live--"

Before he could finish the child had interrupted him. "That dog ought todie for killing my Bess!"

Flea pushed past Flukey and stood before the little girl. "Kid, I don'tblame ye for cryin' for yer hen, " she began; "but my brother ain't gotno dog but Snatchet, an' if ye'll let him live I'll give ye this bit ofgold I got for catchin' the pig. "

A murmur followed her words, and the tears dried in the blue eyeslooking up at her. 

"Here little 'un, chuck it in yer pocket, " said Flea, straightening hershoulders, "and it'll buy another hen. "

So the jury which had sat for a moment upon the precious life ofSnatchet brought in a verdict of "not guilty, " and the squatter childrenturned to find something to eat for the quartet of empty stomachs. Outof sight of Dryden, they sat down beside the road, and Flea looked thepig over. 

"Ye has to tie a piece of cord to his leg, Kid, " cautioned Flukey;"'cause he'll get away if ye don't. Ain't he fine?"

"The finest pig in this here world, " responded Flea. "Ye ain't got norag what'll wipe off some of this grease, have ye, Fluke?"

"Nope; but ye can scrape it off with a stick or a rock. Here, ye holdhim tight while I dig at him. "

For about twenty minutes they busied themselves with cleaning thesuckling, laughing at his wriggles and squeaks. 

"What'll we call him?" asked Flea. 

"Squeaky, " said Flukey, "that's what the man called out. "

"Aw, that ain't nice enough for me! I'll call him Prince, and ye callhim Squeaky--Prince Squeaky, " she ended, knotting the cord Flukey hadgiven her about the short hind leg of the animal. 

"And we be rich, " she declared later, "'most five dollars, a pig, andSnatchet, and yer leg's well. It don't hurt a bit, do it?"

"Nope, not now; but when I were at the top of that pole I got a damngood twist. It's better now. "

"Then let's mog along, " said Flea, "'cause we can eat all we want, nowwe got money. "

CHAPTER TEN

For two weeks Flea and Flukey lived on the fat of the land. The countryafforded them haystacks, and the brooks, clear water. The children werenever happier than when Squeaky's nose was hidden in a tin can ofbuttermilk, and the precious five dollars bought countless numbers ofcurrant buns, sugar cakes, and penny bones for Snatchet. Now Flukeylifted his head proudly and walked with the air of a boy on the road tofortune, and Flea kept at his side with the prince hugged close in herarms. Through the long stretch of houseless roads Snatchet was allowedto rove at will, and Flukey relieved his sister of her burden. By thethird day out toward the promised land the two little animals had becomefirm friends, and the queer quartet walked on and on, as straight as thecrow flies, through the valleys and over the hills, wading the creeksand ferrying the rivers, until they awoke one morning without money orbreakfast. The warm hay at night, much sunshine, and the absence of rainhad reduced the swollen joint in Flukey's knee to normal size; but thatday, as they trudged along, Flea noticed that he limped more than at anytime during their journey from Tompkins County. Even now, with hungerstaring wolf-eyed at them, there was no desire to return to Ithaca, nothought of renewing their life in the squatter's settlement; for, unknown to themselves, they were being swept on by a common destiny. 

"Ye're gettin' lame again, " said Flea after awhile, the mother-feelingin her making her watch Flukey with concern. "Last night a-laying' inthe field didn't do ye any good. Let me lug Prince Squeaky. "

Without remonstrance, the boy surrendered the wriggling burden, and theystarted out once more. 

"I wish we could find a nice, warm haystack, " Flea commented; "it'd warmup yer bones. Will we get to one, Fluke, after awhile?"

"Nope, 'cause we're comin' to a big city. "

As he spoke, he motioned to where Tarrytown lay on the banks of theHudson River, several miles distant. Then they were silent a time; foreach young life was busy with the tragedy of living. Just what theywould do for a place to sleep Flea could not tell, since under thecompact made in the rock-cavern they would steal no more. 

In the gathering twilight the two came upon the cemetery of SleepyHollow, and here, tired, hungry, and despondent, they sat down to rest. 

"It's gettin' night, " said Flukey drearily. "I wonder where we'llsleep?"

"Can't we squirm in this dead man's yard 'thout nobody seein' us?" askedFlea, casting her eyes over the graves. "Ye can't walk no more tonight. I ain't hungry, anyhow. "

"Ye lie, Flea!" moaned Flukey. "Yer belly's as empty as Squeaky's orSnatchet's. I've got to get ye somethin' to eat. "

Nevertheless, without resistance, he allowed her to help him through thelarge gate, and they struck off into the older part of the cemetery. Allthrough the night they lay dozing in the presence of the dead, Squeakytied by the leg to a tree, and Snatchet snuggled warmly between the twochildren. The dawning of day brought Flukey new anguish; for both kneeswere swollen, and he groaned as he turned over. 

Flea was up instantly. "Be ye sick?"

"Only the twist in my legs. I wish it wasn't so cold. If the sun wouldonly get warm!"

"We'll get to the good land today, Fluke, " soothed Flea, "and ye can eatall ye want, and sleep with a pile of covers on--as big--as big as thatthere vault yonder. "

"But we ain't in the good land yet, Flea, " groaned Flukey, "and we'reall hungry. I wish I could 'arn a nickel. If ye didn't love the pig somuch, Flea, we could sell him. He's a growin' thinner and thinner everyminute, and Snatchet be that starvin' he could eat another mut bigger'nhimself. "

The girl made no answer to this, but tucked Squeaky's pink nose underthe blue-shirted arm and sat mute. 

Flukey, encouraged, went on. "Nobody'd buy Snatchet--he's only a poor, damn, shiverin' cuss. "

"If we selled Prince Squeaky, some'un'd eat him, " mourned Flea. "Heain't goin' to be e't, I says!"

So forceful were her tones that Flukey offered no more suggestions; butstared miserably at the sun as it rose up from the east, dispersing thecold, gray morning fog. Presently Flea stood up and said decisively:

"We've got to eat. Ye stay here while I hunt for somethin'. "

She darted away before Flukey could remonstrate. For a long time the boylay on the damp ground, his face drawn awry with pain, watching thewagons going back and forth on the road below. The pangs of hunger andthe night of rheumatism had told upon his young strength. His mind wentback to the hut on Cayuga Lake, and he thought of how when their absencehad been discovered Granny Cronk had cried a little, and how Pappy Lonhad cursed and grown more silent than ever. The tender heart of the sickboy yearned toward the old squatter woman, who had been the only motherhe and Flea had ever known. In his loneliness he stroked Squeaky on thesnout and muttered tender words to the lean dog lying under his lameleg. After a short time he saw Flea, with a small bundle in her hand, picking her way among the graves. Flukey lay perfectly quiet until hissister offered him a bun. 

"I could only buy four, 'cause I only had a nickel. "

"Give Squeaky and Snatchet one, will ye, Flea?" ventured Flukey. 

"Yep. I said, when I buyed 'em, there'd be one apiece. "

"Somethin' has made ye pale, Flea, " said Flukey after each of the fourhad devoured breakfast. "Ye didn't--"

"I see Lem Crabbe's scow down by the river. "

Flukey uttered an exclamation and sat up with a groan. "He's comin'after ye, Kid, " he breathed desperately. 

"Nope, he ain't, " assured Flea; "he's takin' lumber down to New York. And he didn't see me. And we'll stay in this here graveyard till he'sgone. He's waitin' for the steam tug to come. I guess he poled fromAlbany down when he couldn't use his mules. "

"Were Pappy Lon with him?" asked Flukey, drawing up his knees. 

"I dunno; I didn't wait to see. I had to 'arn this nickel. "

"Ye didn't steal it, Flea?"

"Nope; I had it give to me for holdin' a horse. Ye believe me, Fluke?"

"Yep, I believe ye. And ye say as how we can't go on now to the goodland? We has to stay here?"

"For awhile, " replied Flea. "When Lem Crabbe goes to New York, then wego, too. "

 * * * * *

While hundreds of birds made ready for a long night in the elm trees, the twins turned silent. Flukey lay with his eyes closed in pain. Thegirl broke the quietude now and then by muttering softly the names onthe gravestones over which her eyes roved:

 "EVERETT BRIMBECOMB ONE YEAR OLD BELOVED SON OF AGNES AND HAROLD BRIMBECOMB. RESTING IN JESUS"

Flea read this over several times, and turned to Flukey. 

"Who's Jesus, Fluke?" she asked. 

The boy raised his head and opened his eyes languidly. "What? What'd yesay, Flea?"

"Who's Jesus?" she asked again, pointing to the inscription on thestone. 

"I dunno. I guess he's some old feller layin' down in there with thatkid. "

Thus the day had passed and the night fell. Flukey dropped into a deepsleep, and Flea, huddling to the cold earth, settled closer to herbrother in the sheltering darkness. Suddenly the girl aroused as if froma bad dream. She sat up, feeling for the pig and Snatchet, and placedher hand on Flukey's quiet body and lay down. Once more came the sound. It was the faint, distant hoot of an owl, stealing out through the talltrees. Nearer and nearer it came, until Flea sat bolt upright. Instantlyinto her mind shot the picture of a shriveled woman from the squattercountry. A cold perspiration broke over her. 

She turned her head slowly and looked off into the dark end of thecemetery, over which hung a mist. Through this veil the pale moonwatched the earth with steady gaze. From among the monuments andtime-scarred headstones, looming darkly in the forbidding silence, anapparition arose, and to Flea's vivid imagination it seemed as ifvoiceless gray ghosts were peopling God's Acre on all sides. Sherecoiled in horror as the strange, wild cry drew nearer. 

A hysterical sensation burning in her throat tightened it so she couldnot speak to Flukey, nor could she drag her eyes from the thing movingtoward her. Snatchet growled; but Flea pressed his jaws together with asnap, and the sound died in his throat. Squeaky moved slightly among thedead leaves, then became quiet again. The phantom-like figure passedalmost near enough to touch the rigid girl. Its lips opened, and ahoarse, owl-like cry aroused the sleepy birds above. 

"It's Screechy!" murmured Flea, dropping back in fear. "She's comeseekin' Flukey and me! The bats be flyin' in her head!"

Screech Owl, ignorant of the children's proximity, went straight on, gliding over the graves until she stopped before the stone mansion atthe edge of the graveyard. A light shone from the room, and the womanstole directly under it. A tall, handsome young man, his gaze centeredthoughtfully upon the dark aspect, stood in the window. Flea sawScreechy hold out her arms toward him with an appealing gesture. Helifted his hand suddenly and drew down the shade, and his broadshoulders were silhouetted against it in sharp, black lines. After thatthe breathless girl saw the woman turn and stumble past her without asound. 

"The bats left her head the minute that there winder got dark!" gaspedthe watcher. Tremblingly she drew closer to Flukey, until sleepoverpowered her. 

 * * * * *

The next day passed slowly, the cold rain lasting until almostnightfall, and yet the children dared not venture into the town. Fleafumed and fretted; for the earning of the nickel had whetted herambition to earn more. Now she dared not go near the river where workcould be found; but she knew that as soon as the tug appeared LemCrabbe would go to New York. Probably by this time the scow was far onits way down the river. This was the decision at which the squattertwins arrived after weary hours of waiting. So, when the twilight againfell over the dead, they rose stiffly from their hiding place and limpedto the road. 

"We'll go back to the graveyard tonight, if this ain't the good land, "murmured Flea. "We'll be safe there from Lem, Fluke. "

"Wish we was rich like we was that fair-day, Flea, " replied the boy, scarcely able to walk. 

"I wish so, too. If we had that yeller gold-piece we coughed up for thatdamn brown hen, we'd eat. But I'd ruther have Snatchet, Fluke. "

"I'd ruther have him, too; but we need money--"

"And when we get it, " interrupted Flea, "Snatchet'll have a hunk ofmeat, and Prince Squeaky a bucket of buttermilk, and ye'll have linimentfor yer legs, Fluke. "

"Ye'll eat yerself first, Flea, " said Flukey. "I saw ye when ye give thepig a bit of yer biscuit yesterday mornin'. "

"We'll all eat in the good land, " replied Flea hopefully. 

By this time they had come to the gateway and turned into the street. Harold Brimbecomb's beautiful home was brilliantly lighted. It appearedthe same to Flea as on the night before, when she had seen Scraggy makeher melancholy play before it. 

Flea had refrained from speaking of her midnight fright to Flukey; forhe would but tell her that, like all girls, she was afraid, and a slurfrom her brother was more than she could bear. 

Flea and Flukey had never been taught to pray, "Lead us not intotemptation. " Now, with aching hearts and empty stomachs, they turned insilence to the richly lighted houses. Flukey dragged himself resolutelypast Brimbecomb's as if he would avoid the desire that suddenly pressedupon him to ply the trade in which he had been darkly instructed. But hehalted abruptly before the next house, the curtains of which were pulledup halfway. The long windows reached to the porch floor. Through theclear glass the children saw a table dressed in all the gorgeousness ofsilver and crystal. At the spectacle a clamor for food set up in bothaching stomachs, and the two passed as if by one accord to the porch. Asthey peered into the window with longing eyes, Squeaky was held tightlyunder Flea's arm; but Snatchet, resting wearily on Flukey's, suddenlysat up. He, too, had scented something to eat, and thrust in and out alean red tongue over pointed, tusky teeth. 

"It's time for me to steal, Flea, " whispered Flukey, turning feverisheyes toward his sister. 

"If you do it, Flukey, I'll do it with ye. "

With no more ado, Flukey's practiced fingers silently slid up the sash. Two youthful bodies stepped through: the opening. In absolute quiet, they stood raggedly forlorn, savagely hungry, before the tempting table. There, was plenty to eat; so without a word the squatter girl placedSqueaky before a glass dish of salad. His small pink nose buried its tipfrom sight, and the food disappeared into the suckling's empty stomach. Snatchet, squatting on his haunches, snapped up a stuffed bird. Fleabegan to eat; but Flukey, now too ill, leaned against the red-paperedwall. 

Just at this critical moment the door opened, and Flea, greatlyfrightened, started back to the window. She blinked, brushed a dark curlfrom her eyes, and saw her Prince advancing toward her. He saw her, too;but did not connect her with the bare-footed girl on Cayuga Lake, butonly with the boy who had kept from him the greased pig at the Drydenfair. He glanced at Squeaky calmly eating the salad and smiled. 

"Bless my soul, Ann!" he said, turning to a lady who had followed himin, "we have company to dinner, or my name isn't Horace Shellington! Whydidn't you young gentlemen wait, and we should all have been seatedtogether?"

There was a whirling in Flukey's head, such as he had never felt before;but Flea's ashen face brought back his scattered senses. He tried tolift his arm to throw it about her; but dropped it with a groan. Realizing the agony that had swept over her dear one, Flea gathered in adeep breath and took his fevered hand in hers. 

"It weren't him, " she cried, lifting her eyes to her questioner andsullenly moving her head toward the shivering boy at her side. "I e'tyer victuals--he didn't. If one of us goes to jail, I do--see?"

"Let me think, " ruminated Horace, eying her gravely. "Six months isabout the shortest sentence given to a fellow for breaking into a house. And what about the pig? I see him in the act of theft. Shall he go withyou?"

"He were hungry, that's why Prince Squeaky stealed, " exclaimed Flea, dropping Flukey's fingers. There was something in the kindly eyes of theman that forced her forward a step. She thrust out her hand in appealinganxiety. "We was all hungry, " she continued, a dry sob strangling her. "Flukey nor me nor the pig nor Snatchet ain't e't in a long time. We didsteal; but if I knowed it were yer house--"

A quizzical expression flashing into Shellington's eyes stopped herwords. 

"You wouldn't have come in?" he queried. 

Flea nodded just as Snatchet jumped to the floor with another plumpbird between his teeth. Flukey staggered to his sister's side. 

"Let me tell ye how it was, Mister, " he begged, his eyes bloodshot andrestless. "We be lookin' for a good land where boys don't have to steal, and when they get sick they get well again. "

Here Flea burst forth impetuously. 

"He has such hellish rheumatiz that he can't set in no dark prison. Ican set weeks among rats and bugs what be in all prisons! I ain't afraidof nothing what lives!"

Flukey interrupted her by taking her arm and pushing her back a little. 

"I'm a thief by trade, " he said; "but my sister ain't. She ain't neverstole nothin' in all her life, she ain't. Take me, will ye, Mister?"

"Sister!" murmured the gentleman, turning to Flea. 

If nothing else had been said, the question would have been answered inthe affirmative by the vivid blush that dyed Flea's dark skin. Herembarrassment brought another exclamation from Flukey. 

"She's a girl, all right! She's only tryin' to save me. She put on mypants jest to get away from Pappy Lon. I'll go to jail; but don't sendher!"

He swayed blindly, closing his eyes with a moan. 

"The child is sick, Horace, " said Ann. "I think he is very sick. "

"Where did you sleep last night?" Shellington asked this of Flea. 

"Out there, " answered the girl, pointing over her shoulder, "down by abig monument. "

"Horace Shellington, " gasped Ann, "they slept in the cemetery!"

The sharp tone of the girl's voice brought Flukey back to the present. 

"We run away 'cause Pappy Lon were a makin' me steal when I didn't wantto, " he explained, clearing his throat, "and he was goin' to make Fleabe Lem's woman. And that's the truth, Mister, and Lem wasn't goin' tomarry her, nuther!"

He rambled on in a monotone as if too sick for inflection. Flea placedone arm about his neck. 

"I'm a girl! I'm Flea Cronk!" she confessed brokenly. "And Flukey'sdoin' all this for me! And he's so sick! I stealed from yer table--hedidn't! Will ye let him lay in yer barn tonight, if I go up for thestealin'?"

Never had Horace Shellington felt so keenly the sorrows of other humanbeings as when this girl, in her crude boy clothes, lifted her agonized, tearless eyes to his. His throat filled. Somehow, his whole soul wentout to her, his being stirred to its depths. He put out one hand totouch Flea--when voices from the inner room stopped further speech. Alight step, accompanied by a heavier one, approaching the dining-hall, brought his thoughts together. 

"Ann, " he appealed, stepping to his sister's side, "you're alwayswanting to do something for me--do it now. Let me settle this!"

Speaking to Flukey, he said, "Pick up your dog, Boy!"

"And the pig from the table!" groaned Ann distractedly. 

 * * * * *

Flukey mechanically stooped to obey, while Flea captured Squeaky andtucked the suckling under her arm just as Shellington opened the door toadmit his guests. When Flea lifted her embarrassed gaze to thestrangers, she saw the same face that had peered at her over Horace'sshoulder at the Dryden fair, the face to which Screech Owl had made hersilent appeal. A graceful girl followed, whose eyes expressedastonishment as Horace spoke. 

"These are my young friends, you will remember, Everett, from the fair, Flea and Flukey Cronk. " Turning his misty eyes upon the children hecontinued, "This is Mr. Brimbecomb, and Miss Katherine Vandecar, Governor Vandecar's niece. "

He went through this introduction to gain control of his feelings. 

"They have changed their minds, Everett, and have brought me the pig, "he exclaimed. "It was kind of you, child!"

He had almost said "boy"; but, remembering the admission Flea had made, he gazed straight at her, watching with growing interest the changesthat passed over the young face. 

"You see, " he hurried on nervously, "they found out where I lived, andthought I might still want the pig--"

Ann Shellington admonishingly touched her brother's arm. "Horace!" sheurged; but he stopped her with a gesture. 

"I think it mighty nice of them to come all the way from Dryden with apig--on my soul, I do, Ann!"

Taking a silver case from his pocket, he extracted a cigarette from it, while directing his attention to Flea. 

"I want it now as much as I did then; but I don't believe that I shallever roast and eat him. "

Flea searched the speaker's face fearfully, her eyes lustrous withmelting tenderness. He had promised her that Squeaky should live; butwas he going to send Flukey away? It was slow torture, this waiting forhis verdict, each second measured full to the brim, each minute moreagonizing than the last. 

Horace Shellington was speaking again. "You see, Katherine, " he said, turning to the younger girl, "I know this puzzles you; but these twoyoungsters won the pig at the fair, and I tried to buy it of them for aroast. Just at that time this little--chap--" he motioned toward Flea, "didn't want to part with it. He's changed his mind. You see the pig ishere. "

Miss Shellington did not supplement her brother's statement; but thetall stranger with the brilliant eyes gazed dubiously at the table andthen down into Flea's face. 

"I'll bet my hat, " he said in a tone deep and rich, "that you boys havebeen thieving!"

Before the frightened girl could respond, the master of the housestepped between them; but not before Flea had caught an expression thattook her back to Screech Owl's hut. 

"For shame, Everett!" chided Horace. "I have just told you that theywere trying to do me a favor. The pig has come a long way, and I gavehim some--salad. There's plenty more in the larder. "

It was hard for Horace Shellington to lie flagrantly, and hisexplanation sounded forced. The music in his voice pierced the childishlethargy of Flea's soul, awakening it to womanhood. Intuition told herthat he had lied for her sake. 

"And you gave him the birds, too?" Everett asked sneeringly, glancing atthe scattered bones. 

"No, I gave the dog the birds, " replied Horace simply. "It seemed, " heproceeded slowly, "that just at that moment I felt for the hungry dogand pig more than I did for my guests. "

He had backed to his sister's side with an imploring glance, and allowedhis hand to rest lightly on hers. She understood his message, and methis appeal. 

"And now these young people have been so good to us, " she said, "weought to repay them with a good supper. If you will come with me, Boys, you shall have what you need.... Oh! Yes, you can bring both the dog andthe pig. "

A tranquil smile, sweet and pathetic, erased the pain-wrinkles fromFlukey's face. Supper at last for his dear ones!

Ann held out her hand to him, and dazedly the sick lad took it in hishot fingers. Then, remembering Everett's disapprobation of the boys, sheglanced into his face; but, meeting a studiously indifferent, slightlybored look, she led Flukey away. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Flukey was too ill, as he stumbled along, to dread the outcome of theiract of theft. He realized only that a beautiful lady was leading Flea toa place where her hunger could be satisfied, and, as he felt the warmthof Ann's fingers permeate his own famished body, a great courage urgedhim forward. He would never again steal at Lon's command, and Flea wouldhave to dread Lem no more! Something infinitely sweet, like new-cominglife, entered his soul. It was the first exquisite joy that had come toFlukey Cronk. He stopped and disengaged his hand, to press it to hisside as a pain made him gasp for breath. Then of a sudden he sank to thepolished floor, still clinging to Snatchet. 

"Missus, " he muttered, "I can't walk no more. Jest ye leave me here andgit the grub for Flea. "

Flea turned sharply. "I don't eat when ye're sick, Fluke. The Princesays as how ye can sleep in the barn, and mebbe--mebbe he'll let me workfor the victuals Snatchet and Squeaky stole. "

Flea added this hopefully. 

"Children, " said Ann in a smothered voice, "listen to me! You're bothwelcome to all you've had, and more. The little dog and pig were welcometoo. "

Tears rose under her lids, and she turned her head away, that the twinsmight not see them. Ann Shellington, like her brother, had never beforeseen human misery depicted in small lives. At the mention of his dog, Flukey opened his eyes and turned his gaze upward. 

"Thank ye, Lady, " said he, "thank ye for what ye said about Snatchet. Ain't he a pink peach of a dorg, Ma'm?"

Ann inclined her head gently, glancing dubiously over the yellow pup. She could not openly admit that Snatchet resembled anything beautifulshe had ever seen, when the boy, his lips twitching with agony, held hispet up toward her. 

"Ye can take him, Ma'm, " groaned Flukey. "He only bites bad 'uns likeLem Crabbe. "

Snatchet, feeling the importance of the moment, lifted his head and shotforth a slavering tongue. As it came in contact with her fingers, MissShellington drew back a little. She had been used to slender-limbed, soft-coated dogs; this small, shivering mongrel, touching her flesh witha tongue roughly beaded, sent a tremor of disgust over her. Flea steppedforward, took Snatchet from her brother, and tucked him away under thearm opposite the one Squeaky occupied. 

"Ye'll go to the barn, Fluke, " she said, "and ye'll go damn quick! Thelady'll let ye, and Snatchet'll go with ye. Squeaky sleeps with me. "

Ann coughed embarrassedly. "Children, " she began, "we couldn't let thedog and pig sleep in the house; neither could we allow you to sleep inthe barn. So, if you will let the coachman take your pets, I'll see thatyou, Boy, go into a warm bed, and you, " Ann turned to Flea, "must havesome supper and other clothes. Your brother is very ill, I believe, andI think we ought to have a doctor. "

Flea pricked up her ears, and a sad smile crossed her lips. "Ye mean, Ma'm, " said she, "that Flukey can sleep in a real bed and have doctor'sliniments for his bones?"

Ann nodded. "Yes. Now then hurry!... Look at that poor little boy!"

Flukey was on his knees, leaning against the wall, his feverish fingersclutching his curls. 

"Horace! Horace!" called Ann. 

Shellington opened the dining-room door and went out hurriedly, leavingEverett Brimbecomb and Katherine Vandecar still surveying thedisarranged table. 

"It all seems strange to me, Katherine; I mean--this, " said Everett, waving his hand. "I scarcely believed Horace when he said he had allowedit. "

As he spoke, he approached the table and lifted the soiled cloth betweenhis fingers. 

"You can see for yourself, " he said, "the marks of the pig's feet on thelinen. "

Katherine examined the spots. "But it really doesn't matter, does it?"she said. "The poor little animals were hungry, and Horace has such abig heart!" and she sighed. 

Everett made an angry gesture. "But I object to Ann having anything todo with such--" he hesitated and finished, "such youngsters. There's noneed of it. "

"Oh, Everett--but those two children must be cared for! Horace will comeback in a few minutes, and then we'll know all about it. "

"In the meantime I'm hungry, " grumbled Everett, "and if we're going tothe theater--"

He had no time to finish his sentence before Horace, with a gravecountenance, opened the door. 

"I'm sorry, Katherine, " he apologized, and then stopped; for he noticedEverett's face dark with anger. Shellington did not forget that hisfriends had come to dinner; but he had just witnessed a scene that hadtouched his heart, and he determined to make both of his guestsunderstand it also. 

[Illustration: "I'M GOIN' TO TAKE HIS KIDS--AND I'LL MAKE OF 'EM WHAT IBE. "]

"The evening has turned out differently from what Ann and I expected, "he explained. "The fact is that sister can't go to the theater, and Ifeel that I ought to stay with her. So, we'll order another dinner, andthen, Everett, if you and Katherine don't--" His fingers had touchedthe bell as he was speaking; but Everett stopped him. 

"If the boy is too ill to be taken to a hospital, " he said coldly, "Annmight be persuaded to leave him with the servants. "

"Yes, I suggested that, " answered Horace; "but she refused. The boy hassomehow won her heart, and the doctor will be here at any moment. "

A servant appeared, and in a half-hour the table was spread with anotherdinner. Ann's coming to the dining-room did not raise the spirits of theparty; for her eyes were red from weeping, and she refused to eat. 

"I've never known before, Everett, " she said, "that children couldsuffer as that little boy does. "

"And you shouldn't know it now, Ann, if I had my way, " objectedBrimbecomb. "There's a strong line drawn between their kind and ours, and places have been provided for such people. I really want you to comewith us tonight. "

In sharp astonishment, Ann turned on him. 

"Oh, I really couldn't, Everett!" she said, beginning to sob. "Ishouldn't enjoy one moment of the time, while thinking of that poorchild. You take Katherine, and say to Governor and Mrs. Vandecar that wecouldn't come tonight. Tell them about it or not as you please. They areboth good and kind, and will understand. "

Her tears had ceased during the latter part of her speech; for the frownhad deepened on Everett's brow, bringing determination to her own. Neverbefore had she been forced to exercise her wish above his, andBrimbecomb was not prepared for it. Something new had been born in thelarge, sad eyes turned to his, something he did not comprehend, and heinwardly cursed the squatter children. 

At eight o'clock Everett handed Katherine into the carriage and gloomilytook his place beside her. They were late at the theater by severalminutes, when he brushed aside the curtain and ushered Miss Vandecarinto the Governor's box. Mrs. Vandecar was seated in the far corner, herattention directed upon the play. Vandecar rose quietly, and beforeresuming his seat waited until his niece had taken her place. Then theywere silent until the curtain fell after the first act. 

"Where are Horace and Ann?" asked Mrs. Vandecar of Everett. "Anntelephoned me at dinner-time that she would be here. "

Everett inclined his head toward Katherine, and the girl explained thesituation. When she had added pathos to the story by telling of Flukey'sillness, Mrs. Vandecar broke in. 

"I'm glad Ann stayed, dear girl! It's like her to nurse that sickchild. " She said no more; but turned away with misty eyes. 

During the next act the Governor drew near her, and amid the shadows ofthe darkened box, took up the slender fingers and held them until thelights flashed upon the falling curtain. Both had gone back in memory tothose dreadful days when tragedy had cast its somber shadows over them. 

 * * * * *

The doctor had predicted a serious illness for Flukey. Ann and Horaceheld an earnest conversation about it. Miss Shellington's maid had beeninstructed to relieve Flea of her boy's attire and clothe her in some ofAnn's garments. Horace led his sister to the room where Flukey lay, andsuggested that Flea be called. 

A servant appeared at the touch of the bell. 

"Tell the boy's sister to come here, " said Horace. 

When Flea knocked at the door a few minutes later, he bade her enter. Suppressing her pleasure and surprise at the girl's loveliness, Annwalked forward to meet her; but the little stranger backed timidlyagainst the door and flashed a blushing glance at the man. 

The mauve dressing-gown, reaching to the floor, displayed to advantagethe girl's lithe figure, accentuating its long, graceful lines. Thebodice, opened at the neck, exposed the slender white throat, aroundwhich the summer's sun had tanned a ruddy ring. Her hair had been partedin the center and twined in adorable curls about the young head. 

The transformation drew an untactful ejaculation from Horace, and hestared intently at the sensitive face. Flea's gray eyes, after the firsthasty glance at him, sought Flukey. 

"Flukey ain't so awful sick, be he?" she questioned fearfully. 

Ann passed an arm tenderly around her. "Yes, child, he is very ill. Mybrother and I want to speak to you about him. "

"But he ain't goin' dead?"

Her tone brought Horace nearer. In spite of Flea's somberness, thebouyancy of her youth obliterated the memory of every other girl heknew. He was confounded by the thought that a short time before she hadstood as a ragged boy before him. She had been transformed intowomanhood by Ann's clothing. 

Flea bent over Flukey and hid her face. Even when Horace had discoveredthe pig in the salad, her embarrassment had been of small moment tothis. After an instant, she lifted her eyes from her muttering brotherand allowed them to fall upon her Prince. There was an unmistakablesmile upon his lips; nevertheless, a great fear possessed her. If Flukeywere allowed to stay there because of his illness, she at least would betaken away; for she had never heard of a theft being entirelyoverlooked, and she believed that her imprisonment must be the penalty. 

She stooped a little and lovingly touched Flukey's shoulder, lookingfirst at Ann, then at Horace. Straightening up, she burst out:

"Mister, if ye're goin' to have me pinched for stealin', do it quickbefore my brother knows about it, and--I'd ruther go to prison inFluke's pants--please!"

Still the master of the house did not speak. Flea was filled withsuspicion, and thought she divined the cause of his quietness and smile. He was ridiculing her dress, perhaps making sport of the way her curlswere arranged. She thrust one hand upward and tumbled the mass of hairinto disorder. 

"Yer woman put these togs onto me, " she said, "and I feel like an oldguy--dressed up this way!"

Anger forced tears into her eyes, and her two small brown hands clenchedunder the hanging lace at her wrists. Her words and the spontaneousaction deepened the expression on the face of the silent man, and shecried out again:

"Ye needn't be making fun of me, Mister! I can't help how I look. "

But a feverish exclamation from the sick boy so increased her anxietyfor him that her own troubles were overwhelmed. She was renderedunmindful that Ann had softly called her name; nor did she realize thatShellington had spoken quietly to her. 

She flung out her hands in eloquent appeal. 

"Oh, I thank ye for covering my brother up so warm! He didn't need nosheets nor piller-slips; but his bones did need the blankets--sure. Isay as how he'd thank ye, too, if he weren't offen his head. "

Horace gently took the girl's hands in his, and Flea lowered hersun-browned face. 

"I know he would, child, " he said in moved tones. "He's more thanwelcome to all we can do--and you are to stay here, too, little girl. "

Horace had done what Ann had been unable to do. The words had soothedthe squatter girl, and the savage young heart was softened. The long, dreary country marches were over; the cold nights and bare fields werethings of the past. For Flukey, there were tender hands that would easehis pain; for her, a home unmenaced by Lem. She had looked her last uponhorrors that had bound her to a life she hated. 

Shellington spoke to her. 

"Look at me, child!" said he. "I want to tell you what the doctor said. "

She lifted an anxious gaze filled with the emotion of a woman's soul. Itwas her dawning womanhood that Horace saw, and toward it his manhood wasunconsciously drawn. 

Ann spoke quietly:

"The doctor says that your brother will be ill many weeks, and we havedecided to keep him here with us, if you consent to our arrangements. "

"Ye mean, " gasped Flea, snatching her hands from Horace, "ye mean thatFlukey can lay in that there bed till he gets all well and all themisery has gone out of his bones?"

Ann's answer meant much to Flea. The girl had realized the import of thespeech; but, that she might better understand the words, she had sentthem questioningly back in her vernacular for further confirmation. 

"If you are willing to stay with us, " Horace was saying, "and will helpus take care of him--"

He could not have offered anything else that would so have touched her. How she had longed to do something for Flukey those last hours in thegraveyard! But Flea wanted no mistake. Did the gentleman understand howterribly poor they were?

"We ain't got no money, and we only own Squeaky and Snatchet. "

Shellington smiled at the interruption. 

"You will still own your dog and pig, child, if you ever wish to goaway. My sister and I are anxious to have your brother grow strong andwell. He has rheumatic fever, which is sometimes very stubborn, and ifwe don't work hard--"

He paused, tempted to pass one arm about the girl as his sister haddone; but the womanliness of her forbade. 

"Ye think Flukey mightn' get well?" Flea breathed. 

Ann turned anxious eyes upon the boy, who was muttering incoherently. 

"Poor little child! May Jesus help him!" she whispered. 

Flea rose to her feet. 

"Jesus! Jesus!" she repeated solemnly. "Granny Cronk used to talk abouthim. He's the Man what's a sleepin' in the grave with the kid with thesame name as that bright-eyed duffer who don't like Fluke nor me. "

Ann, mystified, glanced at Horace. 

Flukey turned slowly, opened his eyes, and murmured;

"'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little--'"

He sighed painfully as the last words trailed from his lips. Flea endedhis quotation, saying:

"'A little child. ' But, Flukey, Jesus is dead and buried. "

"No, no, He isn't, child!" cried Ann sharply. "He'll never die. He willalways help little children. "

"Ain't He a restin' in the dead man's yard out there?"demanded Flea, lifting her robe as she moved toward Ann. 

"No! indeed, no! He is everywhere, with the dead and the living, withmen and women, and also with little children. "

"Where be He?" Flea asked. 

"In Heaven, " replied Ann, leaning over Flukey. "And He's able even toraise the dead. "

Flea grasped her arm. 

"Then, if He's everywhere, as ye've jest said, can't ye--"

Flukey opened his eyes. 

"If ye know that Man Jesus, well enough, " he broke forth, trying to takeher hand in his, "if ye ever sees Him to speak to Him, will ye say that, if He'll let my bones get well, and keep my little Flea from Lem, I'lldo all He says for me to? Tell Him--tell--tell Him, Ma'm, that my bonesbe--almost a bustin'. "

"Can He help Fluke any if ye ask Him?" Flea questioned. 

Ann nodded; but Flea, not satisfied, asked the question directly ofHorace. 

"I believe so, " he hesitated; "yes, I do believe that He can and willhelp your brother. "

"Will ye ask Him?" Flea pleaded. "Will ye both ask Him?"

Ann answered yes quickly; and Flea was satisfied with the nod Horacegave her before he wheeled about to the window. 

When Flukey was resting under the physician's medicine, Horace and Annlistened to the tale of the squatter children's lives, told by Flea. Itwas then that Shellington promised her that Squeaky should find a futurehome on their farm among other animals of the kind, and that he wouldmake it his task to see that the little pig had plenty to eat, plenty ofsunshine, and a home such as few little pigs had. Snatchet, too, Horacepromised, should be housed in a warm kennel with the greyhounds andblooded pups. 

When Flea leaned over Flukey to say goodnight to him, she breathed:

"This be the promised land, all right, Fluke! Ain't we lucky kids to behere?"

CHAPTER TWELVE

With infinite tenderness, Ann led Flea into the pretty blue bedroom. Thegirl drew back with an exclamation. 

"It's too nice for a squatter! But I'm glad you put Fluke in that redplace, 'cause it looks so warm and feels warm. But me--"

Ann interrupted hastily. 

"You remember my brother saying that you were going to stay here with usuntil your brother was well?"

Flea assented. 

"Then, as long as you are with us, you will be our guest just as thoughyou were my sister. Would you like to be my sister?"

Flea dropped her gaze before the earnest eyes. 

"Yep!" she choked. "But I'm a squatter, Missus, and squatters don'tcount for nothin'. But Fluke--"

"Poor child! She can't think of anyone but her brother, " MissShellington murmured to herself. 

But Flea caught the words. 

"He's so good--oh, so awful good--and he ain't never had no chance withPappy Lon. If he gets well, we'll work together, and we won't stealnothin' ever no more. "

"I feel positive you won't, " assured Ann. "You remember, I told youtonight how very good God is to all His children, and you are a child ofHis, and you know that the Bible says that you must never take anythingthat doesn't belong to you. "

"Nope, I ain't never seen no Bible, " faltered Flea. 

"Then I'm going to give you one, and you can learn to read it. Wouldn'tyou be happy if your brother should get well, and you knew that yourprayers had done it?"

"It wouldn't be me, Ma'm; 'twould be you and your brother. "

Ann considered how she should best begin to open the young mind totruth. 

"Child, would you like me to tell you a story?" she asked presently. 

"Yep, " replied Flea eagerly. "Is it about fairies, or ghosts, or goblinswhat live near lakes?"

"No; it's about Jesus, who died to save the world. "

Then gently and simply Ann told the story of the Passion to thewondering girl, and shortly after left her to sleep. 

Miss Shellington went to her brother's study, and he met her with aquizzical smile. 

"You've woven a net about yourself, Sis, haven't you?" said he. 

"And about you, too, Dear, " Ann retorted. "But, Horace, I shouldn't havethought of keeping them, if you hadn't consented. "

She looked so troubled, her brow puckered up in thought, that he smiledagain. 

"Of course, you wouldn't--I know that. But I'm not in the least sorry. We've money enough to do a kindness once in awhile. And as long as youdon't work yourself to death over them I sha'n't complain. "

They were silent for a little while. Then presently Ann spoke musingly:

"Horace, do those children remind you of someone?"

"I don't know that they do. I'm not a fellow who notices resemblances. Why?"

"I can't tell. Only, when they stood there tonight by the table, looking so forlorn, there was something familiar about them. "

"Your dear, tender heart imagined it, " Horace declared. 

"Possibly. Still, the feeling has been with me ever since. Horace, I'vealways wanted to do some real work, and don't you think this--"

"Hark!" Horace interrupted. "Wasn't that the bell?"

"Yes, it's Everett, I hope, " said Ann, rising, "I thought perhaps hewould run in. Yes, I hear his voice! Shall I bring him in here for a fewmoments?"

"Yes. "

When Everett came in, Horace noted that he had lost the frown. Brimbecomb good naturedly demanded if Ann intended to start akindergarten. He recounted how Mr. And Mrs. Vandecar had received theirexcuses, and then said:

"Ann, Mrs. Vandecar thought you so charitably inclined. She seemed quiteexercised over the story. But you don't intend to keep them here aftertomorrow morning, do you?"

"Well, you see, Everett, " Ann explained, "Horace and I have talked for along time about doing some real charity work; so now we're going to tryan experiment. "

"These boys--"

Ann interrupted. "One of them is a girl. "

Horace saw the change on Brimbecomb's face and said hurriedly:

"The girl had on her brother's clothes, that's all. "

"Strange proceedings all the way through, though, " snapped Everett. 

He was showing himself in a new light, and Horace noted that the younglawyer's face bore sarcasm and unpleasant cynicism. He wondered thathis gentle, obedient sister had gathered courage to stand against herlover's wishes; for Everett had expressed a decided objection to Ann'sworking for the squatter children. Suddenly he felt a twinge of dislikefor the man before him, and his respect for Ann deepened. How manygirls, he reasoned, would have the courage and desire thus to take intwo suffering children? He rose quickly and left the room. 

Everett took up the argument again with Miss Shellington:

"Ann, you're going very much against my wishes if you keep thosechildren here. "

"I'm sorry, Dear, " she said simply; "but you know--"

"I know that you won't do anything of which I disapprove, Ann. "

"You're mistaken, Everett, " Ann contradicted slowly. "I could not alloweven you to mark out my duty. And something makes me so anxious to helpthem! I don't want to go against your wishes; but--I must do as myconscience dictates. "

"Surely you don't mean, Ann, that if you were my wife you would force--"

"Please don't, Everett! No, of course not; but this is Horace's home andmine, and, if we desire to share it with someone less fortunate than weare, you shouldn't object. "

Everett took up no more time in vain argument; but registered a vow thathe would make it warm for the beggars who had thrust themselves upon theShellingtons. He would search for an opportunity! Impatient andunsettled, he left Ann. She, too, was unhappy; for it had been the firsttime her duty had ever clashed with her love. The shock of the collisionhurt. 

The next morning Flea crept into her brother's room and stood lookingdown at him. He opened his eyes languidly, smiled, and groaned. 

"Ain't yer bones any better this mornin'?" asked Flea in an awedwhisper. 

"Yep; but my heart hurts me. The pains round it be worse than the miseryin my knees, 'cause I can't breathe. "

Flea bent lower. 

"Did the pretty lady tell ye anythin' last night?"

"Nope; did she tell you anythin'?"

"Yep, all about the Jesus. Get her to tell you, Fluke. It's better thanfairy stories. I can't remember all of it; but she says He jest lovedeverybody so well that He let 'em nail Him on a cross, and died there. But He got up again, and that's how He came to be up there. "

Flea pointed upward. 

"Did Miss--Miss Shellington tell ye that?"

"Yep, Fluke. " She hesitated and whispered again, "Do ye believe it, Fluke?"

"Course I do, if she says it! Don't ye think what she says is so?"

"I don't believe all that, " replied Flea. "I tried last night, andcouldn't. You used to laugh at me when I said as how there was ghosts. "

"Mebbe she don't believe in ghosts, " sighed Flukey. 

"It's almost the same. She believes in Jesus. "

"He's all I believe in, too. " Flukey closed his eyes wearily. 

"Fluke, " whispered Flea presently, "ye ought to see that room I slep'in! It were finer'n this one. "

"This be the promised land, all right, what Scraggy speaked about, " saidFlukey. "There ain't no more places like it in this here world. "

"I believe that, too, " answered Flea, "and if we hadn't been hungrywe'd never have stealed, and we wouldn't have found Mr. And MissShellington. Yet she says it's wicked to steal. "

"So it be, Flea, and ye know it. All ye're tryin' to do now is not tobelieve about that Jesus. I bet somethin'll come that'll make ye believeit. "

"Mebbe, " mumbled Flea darkly; "but 's long 's 'tain't Pappy Lon or Lem, I don't care. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

During the next two weeks, while Flukey was fighting with death, and thegreat Shellington mansion was as silent as a tomb, Scraggy Peterson wastramping back to the squatter country. When she reached Ithaca, she wasalmost too ill to start up the Lehigh Valley tracks toward her hut. Theblack cat clung to her tattered jacket, his wizard-eyes shining green, as Screech Owl passed under the gas-lamps. It was almost ten o'clock atnight when she unlatched her shanty door and kindled a fire. The larderwas bare, save for some crusts of hard bread. These the woman soaked inhot water and shared with the cat. Then, in a state of great exhaustion, she picked up Black Pussy, blew out the candle, and, for the first timein many days, slept in her own hut. 

On the shore below Lem Crabbe's scow was drawn up near the Cronk hut. The squatter and scowman were conversing in the dim light of a lanternthat swung from Lem's hook. 

"Did ye make any hauls while ye was gone, Lem?" asked Lon. 

"Nope, only sold the lumber. I ain't trying nothin' alone. "

"It was cussed mean I couldn't go along with ye, " Lon said; "but I hadto stay to hum. Did ye know that Mammy were dead?"

"Nope!"

"Yep, and buried, too! She fretted over the brats, and kep' a sayin'they was dead in the lake. But I know they jest runned off some'ers. "

"I know it, too, " Lem grunted savagely. "The gal didn't have no likin'for me. "

"I jest see Scraggy come hum, " ventured Lon. "She's been gone for a longwhile. She were a comin' down the tracks. "

Lem muttered a savage oath, and faced the scow preparatory to entering. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked:

"Be ye comin' in, Lon?"

"Nope; I'm goin' to bed. Say, Lem, while ye was away, ye didn't get earof no good place to make a haul soon, did ye?"

"Yep; I tied up to Tarrytown goin' down. There be heaps of rich folksthere. Middy Burnes what runs the tug says as how there be a fellerthere richer than the devil.... Hell! I've forgot his name!"

Lem halted on the gangplank and thought for a moment. 

"Nope, I ain't; I jest thought of it!... Shellington! That's him, andhe's a fine house, and many's the room filled with--"

Lon broke in upon Lem with a growl:

"Then we'll separate him from some of his jewjaws. I bet we has a littleof his pile afore another month goes by!"

"That's what I bet, too, " muttered Lem. "Night, Lon. "

"Night, " repeated Lon, walking away. 

 * * * * *

Lem placed the lantern on the table and sat down to think. Ever sincethe day Screech Owl had told him of the boy he had wounded so many yearsbefore his mind had worked constantly with the thought that he mustfind the home where his son was. Scraggy was the only human being totell him. She must tell him! He would make her, if he had to choke thewoman to death to get her secret! He remembered how she had mocked athim when she had told him that strange bit of news. Realizing thatScraggy's malady made her difficult to coerce, he decided to trycajolery at once. 

Lent rose and took a bit of bread from the cupboard shelf. He slipped itinto a bag, caught up the lantern with his hook, and left the scow. Hehalted in front of Scraggy's dark hut and pounded on the door. The cat, scrambling to the floor inside, was Lem's answer. He knocked again. 

"Scraggy! Scraggy!" he called. "It be Lemmy! Open the door!"

Through her deep sleep came the voice Screech Owl had loved, and stillloved. She sat up in bed, trembling violently, pushing back with apathetic gesture the gray hair from her eyes. She had been dreaming ofLem--dreaming that she had heard his voice. But black pussy couldn'thave dreamed also. He was perched in the small window, lashing his greattail from side to side. She slid from the bed, stretched out a bonyhand, and clutched the cat. 

"Did ye hear him, too, black pussy?"

"Scraggy!" called Lem again, "Open the door! I brought you something toeat. "

It was the thought of the time when he had loved her so, and not of thefood he had brought, that forced Scraggy to the door. She flung it open, and the scowman entered. 

"I thought ye might be hungry, Scraggy; so I brought ye this bread, "said Lem, lifting the hook and sending a ray from the lantern upon thewoman. "Can I set down?"

Could he, this king among men to her, could he sit down in her hut? Hecould have had her heart's blood had he asked it! Had she not crownedhim that day, when he had stood awkwardly by, as she tendered him adark-haired baby boy? Scraggy's happiness knew no bounds. She forgot herfatigue and set forth a chair for Lem. 

"Be ye glad to see me, Scraggy?" asked he presently, crossing his legsand watching her as she lighted some candles. 

"More'n glad, " she replied simply. "But what did ya come for, Lemmy?"

Lem remained silent for some seconds; then said:

"Do ye want to come back to the scow, Scraggy?"

"Ye mean to live?"

Lem shoved out his hairy chin. 

"Yep, to live, " said he. 

"Did ye come to ask me back, Lemmy?"

"Yep, or I wouldn't have been here. I've been thinkin' our famblyoughter be together. "

"Fambly!" echoed Screech Owl wonderingly. 

"Yep, Scraggy. We'll get the boy again, and all of us'll live on thescow. "

His swarthy face went yellow in the candlelight, and the huge goiterunder his chin evidenced by its movements the emotion through which hewas passing. Scraggy had sunk to the floor. Now she crawled nearer him, staring at his face with wonder-widened eyes. 

"Do ye mean, Lemmy, that ye love yer pretty boy brat well enough to wanthim on the scow, and that he can eat all he wants?"

"That's what I mean, " grunted Lem. 

"And that ye mean me to tell him what ye says, Lemmy, and that ye wantme to bring him back?"

"Yep. "

Scraggy had drawn closer and closer to Lem, her sad face wrinkling intodeeper lines. With each uttered word Lem had seen that he had conqueredher. Suddenly he dropped his heavy left hand down on the gray head andkept it there. 

For the first time in many weary years Scraggy Peterson was kneelingbefore her man. Now he wanted her! He had asked her to come again tothat precious haven of rest, and to bring the child! Scraggy forgot thatthe babe she had passed through the barge window was grown to be a man, forgot that he might not want to come back to the scow with her and hisfather. 

Lem drew her close between his heavy knees and touched her withered chinwith his fingers. 

"Where be the brat, Scraggy?" he wheedled. 

Screech Owl lifted her head and drew back frightened. Something warnedher that she must not tell him where his son lived. 

"I'll get him for ye, " she said doggedly. 

"Where be he?" demanded the scowman. 

"I ain't tellin' ye where he be now, Lem. " Scraggy's tone was sulky. 

"Why?"

"'Cause I'll go and get him. I'll bring him to the scowlessen--lessen--"

"Lessen what?" cried Lem darkly. 

"Lessen a month, " replied Scraggy, "and ye'll kiss the brat, and he'llcall ye 'Daddy, ' and he'll love ye like I do, Lemmy dear. "

Lem was rigid, as the woman smoothed down his shaggy gray hair andpatted his hard face. Suddenly he started to his feet. 

"Ye say, Scraggy, that ye'll bring the boy lessen a month?"

"Yep, lessen a month. And, Lemmy, he be a beautiful baby! Ye'll lovehim, will ye, Lemmy?"

"Yep. And now ye take yer cat, Screechy, and get back to bed, and whenye get the boy bring him to the scow. " He hesitated a moment; then said, "Ye don't know, do ye, where Flea and Flukey run to?"

Scraggy's face dropped. 

"Be they gone?" she stammered, rising. 

"Yep, for a long time; and Granny Cronk be dead. "

"Then ye didn't get Flea, Lem?"

"Nope. And I don't want the brat, Scraggy; I only want the boy. " Hespoke with meaning, and when he stood on the hut steps he turned back tofinish, "Ye'll bring him, will ye, Owl?"

"Yep, Lemmy love, lessen a month. "

Scraggy greedily watched the shadowy form move away in the light of thelantern. "Pussy, Pussy, " she muttered, as she closed the door, "blackPussy, come a beddy; yer ole mammy be that happy that her heart's abustin'. "

When Screech Owl, although the happiest woman in the squattersettlement, fell asleep with the cat in her arms, her pillow was wetwith tears. 

 * * * * *

Through long days of anxious waiting for Flukey's recovery, Fleastruggled with the Bible lessons Ann set for her each day. Yet she couldnot grasp the meaning of faith. She prayed nightly; but uttered herwords mechanically, for the Savior in the blue sky seemed beyond herconception. In spite of Miss Shellington's tender pleading, in spite ofthe fact that Flukey believed stanchly all that Ann had told them, Fleasuffered in her disbelief. Many times she sought consolation in Flukey'sfaith. 

"Ye see, Flea, can't ye, " he said, one morning, "that when Sister Annsays a thing it's so? Can't ye see it, Flea?"

"Nope, I can't. I don't know how God looks. I can't understand how Jesusruz after he'd been dead three days. "

"He did that 'cause He were one-half God, " explained Flukey, and then, brightening, added, "Sister Ann telled me that if He hadn't been asufferin' and a sufferin', and hadn't loved everybody well enough, Godwouldn't have let Him ruz. 'Twa'n't by anything He did after He weredead that brought Him standin' up again. "

"Then who did it?" queried Flea. 

"God did--jest as how He said 'way back there when there wasn't anyworld, 'World, come out!' and the world came. He said, 'Jesus, standup!' and Jesus stood up. That's as easy as rollin' off a log, Flea. "

She had heard Ann explain it, too; but it seemed easier when Flukeyinterpreted it. 

"If I could see and speak to Him once, " she mourned, "I could makeSister Ann glad by tellin' her that I knowed He'd answer me. "

"Ask Him to let ye see Himself, " advised Flukey, "He'll do it, I bet!Will ye, Flea?"

"Nope! I'd be 'fraid if He came and stood near me. I'm 'fraid even nowwhen I think of Him; but 'cause I can't believe 'tain't no reason whyyou can't, Fluke. "

She turned her head toward the door and listened. 

"Brother Horace ain't like Sister Ann, " she whispered. 

"Nobody ain't like her, Flea. She's the best ever!"

"Yep, so she is. But I wish as how--" She paused, and a burning blushspread over her face. "I wish as how Brother Horace had Sister Ann's wayof talking to me. I could--"

"Brother Horace ain't nothin' to do with yer believin', Flea. "

"Yep, he has, and when he says as how he believes like Miss Shellington, then I'll believe, too. See?"

Then Flea fell into a stubborn silence. 

One afternoon in December, Ann and Horace sat conversing in the library. 

"I don't see how Mrs. Vandecar can refuse to help you get that childinto school, Ann. "

"I don't believe she will; but Everett thinks she ought. "

"Everett's getting some queer notions lately, " Horace said reluctantly. 

Ann's heart ached dully--the happiness she had had in her lover haddiminished of late. Constantly unpleasant words passed between them onsubjects of so little importance that Ann wondered, when she was alone, why they should have been said at all. Several times Brimbecomb hadrefused to further his acquaintance with the twins. 

"I only wish he would like those poor children, " said she. "I care solittle what our other friends think!"

Shellington pondered a moment. He reflected on Flea's beseeching face asshe pleaded for Flukey, and he decided that the censure of all hisacquaintances could not take his protection from her. 

"No, I don't care for the opinion of any of them, " he replieddeliberately. "I want only your happiness, Sis, and--theirs. "

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could find respectable names for them?" Annsaid presently. "One can't harmonize them with 'Flea' and 'Flukey. '"

After a silence of a few moments, Horace spoke:

"What do you think about calling them Floyd and Fledra, Ann?"

"Oh, but would we dare do that, Horace?"

"Why not? It wouldn't harm the Vandecars, and the children might bebetter for it. We could impress upon them what an honor it would be. "

"But the Vandecars' own little lost children had those names. "

"That's true, too; but I haven't the least idea that either one of themwill take offense, if you explain that we think it will help theyoungsters. "

"Shall I speak with Mrs. Vandecar about it this afternoon?" asked Ann. 

"Yes, just sound her, and see what she says. "

"I might as well go to her right away, then, Horace. You talk with thelittle girl about going to school while I'm gone. You can do so muchmore with her than I can. "

"All right, " said Horace, "and I feel very sure that we won't have anytrouble with her. "

After seeing his sister depart, he returned to the library and, beforesettling himself in a chair, sent a summons to Flea. 

When the girl appeared, Horace rose and cast smiling eyes of approvalover her. 

"That's a mighty pretty dress you have on, " said he. "Was it Sister'sidea to put that lacy, frilly stuff on it?"

Flea crimsoned at his praise, as she nodded affirmation. 

"Sit here in this chair, " invited Shellington. "I want to have a littlechat with you this afternoon. "

Unconsciously Flea put herself into an attitude of graceful attentionand gazed at him worshipfully. At that moment Horace felt how very muchhe desired that she grow into a good woman. 

"How do you think your brother is today?" he questioned kindly. 

"He's awful sick, " replied Flea. 

"I fear, too, that he will be very ill for a long time. He was filledwith the fever when he came here. Now, my sister and I have been talkingit over--"

Flea rose half-hesitantly. 

"And ye wants me to take him some'ers else?" she questioned. 

Horace motioned again for her to be seated. 

"Sit down, child, " said he; "you're quite wrong in your hasty guess. No, of course, you're not to go away. But my sister and I desire that whileyou are here you should study, and that you should come in contact withother girls of your own age. We want you to go to school. "

"Study--study what?"

"Why, learn to read and write, and--"

"Ye mean I have to leave Flukey, and--and you?"

She had risen and had come close to him, her eyes filled with burningtears. Horace felt his throat tighten: for any emotion in this girlaffected him strangely. 

"Oh, no! You won't go away from home--at least, not at night; only for afew hours in the daytime. I'm awfully anxious that you should learn, Flea. "

She came even closer as she said:

"I'll do anything you want me to--'cause ye be the best ole duffer inNew York State!" Then she whirled and fled from the room. 

 * * * * *

Ann Shellington rang the Vandecar doorbell, and a few minutes later wasushered upstairs. Mrs. Vandecar was in a negligée gown, and Katherinewas brushing the invalid's hair. 

"Pardon me, Ann dear, " said Mrs. Vandecar, "for receiving you in thisway; but I'm ill today. "

"I'm so sorry! It's I who ought to ask pardon for coming. But I knewthat no one could aid me except you in the particular thing I aminterested in. "

"I shall be glad to help you, if I can, Ann.... There, Katherine, justroll my hair up. Thank you, Girly. "

Ann had seated herself, and now spoke of her errand:

"You've heard of our little charges who came so strangely to us not longago?"

Mrs. Vandecar nodded. 

"Horace and I wish to do something for them. It seems as if they hadbeen sent to us by Providence. The lad is very ill, and the girl oughtto go to school. We were wondering if you could have her admitted forspecial lessons to Madame Duval's. The school associations would do sucha lot for her. " As Ann continued, she marked Mrs. Vandecar's hesitation. "I know very well, Dear, that I am asking you a serious thing; butBrother and I think that it would do her a world of good. "

Mrs. Vandecar thoughtfully received the shawl Katherine brought her. Then she looked straight at Ann and said:

"Everett doesn't approve of your work, does he, Ann?"

Miss Shellington colored, and fingered her engagement ring. 

"No, " she replied frankly; "but it's because he refuses to know them. They're little dears! I've explained to him our views, and have promisedthat they shall not interfere with any plans he and I may make. I'venever seen Horace vitally interested before, or at least so much so. Now, do you think that you would be willing to do this for us? Mildred'sgoing to the school, and you being a patroness will make Madame Duvallisten to such a proposal from you. "

Mrs. Vandecar turned upon her visitor searchingly. 

"Are you doing right, Ann, in taking these children into your home life?I appreciate your good-heartedness; but--"

"Horace and I have talked it all over, " interjected Ann, "and we areboth assured that we are doing what is right. Won't you think it over, and let us know what you decide? If you find you can't do it--why, we'llarrange some other way. "

The plan of naming the children came into her mind; but she hesitatedbefore broaching it. Mrs. Vandecar was a type of everything high-bredand refined. Would it offend her aristocratic sense to have the childrennamed after her and her husband? Ann overcame her timidity and spoke:

"Fledra, there's another thing I wanted to speak of. The children cameto us without proper names, and Horace suggested that we call them Floydand Fledra. Would you mind?"

Mrs. Vandecar drew back a little, a shade passing over her face. Apainful memory ever present seized her. Long ago two babies had beencalled after their father and mother--after her and her strong husband. Could she admit that she did not care? Could she consent to Ann'srequest? Ann noted her struggle, and said quickly:

"I'm sorry--forgive me, Dear!"

Mrs. Vandecar's face brightened, and she smiled. 

"I thought at first that I didn't want you to; but I won't be foolish. Of course, call them whatever you wish. Floyd won't mind, either. "

 * * * * *

Horace met his sister expectantly. 

"Did you ask her about the names, Ann?"

"Yes. At first she was not inclined to either of our plans; but she hassuch a tender heart. "

"So she has, " responded Horace. 

"She consented about the names; but said that she would send me wordabout the school. "

"And she didn't give a ready consent?"

"No; but I'm almost sure that she will do it. And now about Flea. Didyou talk with her?"

"Yes. She consented to go to school, and said--that I was the best oldduffer in New York State. "

"Oh, Horace! She must be taught not to use such language. It's dreadful!Poor little dear!"

"It'll take sometime to alter that, " replied Horace, shaking his head. "They've had a fearful time, and she's been used to talking that wayalways; she's heard nothing else. You can't alter life's habits in aday. "

"But Madame Duval won't have her if she's impudent, " said Ann. 

"Oh, but she's scarcely that, " expostulated Horace; "she doesn'tunderstand. I'll try to correct her sometime. "

But he felt the blood come up to his hair as he promised; for it seemedalmost impossible to approach the girl with a matter so personal. Forthe present, he dismissed the thought. 

"What about the names, Ann?" he asked. 

"As you wish, Dear; Fledra doesn't care. "

From that moment, the boy, struggling with fever, and the gray-eyedgirl, so like him, were called Floyd and Fledra Cronk. 

 * * * * *

One morning in January, the day before Flea was to begin her schoolwork, she was passing through the hall that led to the front door. Herface was grave with timidity; although for hours Ann had been trying tofortify the young spirit against the ordeal that was to confront her thefollowing day. Only once had Flea faltered a request that she be allowedto stay at home; but Horace had melted her objections without expellingher fear. To Ann's instructions concerning conduct she had listened witha heavy heart. 

Everett Brimbecomb opened the front door as Flea approached it. Shestopped short before him, and he drew in a sharp, quick breath. Flea wasuncertain just what to do. She knew that he was going to marry Ann, andwas also aware that he hated her brother and herself. Ann, however, hadtaught her to bow, and she now came forward with hesitant grace, andinclined her head slightly. The beauty of Flea made Everett regret thathis objections to the twins had been so strenuous; but he wouldimmediately establish a friendship with her that would please both Annand Horace. He vowed that at the same time he would get some amusementout of it. 

"Well! You've blossomed into a girl at last, " he said banteringly, "anda mighty pretty one, too! I swear I shouldn't have known that you wereone of those boys!"

Flea threw her peculiar eyes over him; but did not speak. 

"You're going to school tomorrow, I hear. How do you like that?"

Flea shook her head. 

"I don't want to go, " she admitted; "but my Prince says as how I haveto. "

"Your what?"

"My Prince!"

"Your Prince! Who's your Prince?" demanded Brimbecomb. 

"Him, back in there, " replied Flea, casting her head backward in thedirection of the library. 

"You mean Mr. Shellington?"

"Yep!"

Everett burst into a loud laugh. At the sound, Horace stepped to hisstudy-door and looked out. His face darkened as he discerned Fleastanding against the wall and Brimbecomb looking down at her. He cameforward and stationed himself at the girl's side, placing one hand uponher shoulder. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. 

"Why, little Miss--I'm sure I don't know the child's name, " criedEverett breaking into merriment again, "she says you're a--Prince, Horace. "

Shellington lowered his eyes to Flea, who was gazing up at himfearfully. She did not look at Everett; but made an uneasy gesture withher hand toward Horace. She had never seemed so appealingly adorable, and inwardly Everett cursed the stupidity that had allowed so manyweeks to pass by without his having become Flea's friend. 

There was silence, during which the girl locked and unlocked herfingers. Then she relieved it with the frank statement:

"This man here didn't seem to know nothin' about ye; so I told him yewas a Prince. "

Ann's voice from the drawing-room caused Everett to turn on his heel, leaving Horace alone with Flea. 

For a moment they were both quiet. Flea considered the toe of herslipper. A tear dropped to the front of her dress as Horace took herhand and led her into the library. 

"Fledra, " he said, using the new name with loving inflection, "what areyou crying for?"

"I thought you was mad at me, " she shuddered. "That bright-eyed dufferwhat I hate laughed when I said ye was a Prince. I hate his eyes, I do, and I hate him!"

Shellington did not correct her mistakes in English as he had done sooften of late. With shaded remonstrance in his tone, he said:

"Fledra, he is going to marry my sister, and he's my friend. "

"He ain't good enough for Sister Ann, " muttered Flea stubbornly. 

"She loves him, though, and that is enough to make us all treat him withrespect. "

Turning the subject abruptly, he continued:

"I'm expecting you to work very hard in school, Fledra. You will, won'tyou?"

"Yes, " replied Flea, making sure to pronounce the word carefully. 

Horace smiled so tenderly into her eyes that she grew frightened at thethumping of her heart and fled precipitately. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fledra Cronk's school days lengthened slowly into weeks. She was makingrapid strides in English, and Miss Shellington's patience went fartoward keeping her mind concentrated upon her work. At first some of thegirls at the school were inclined to smile at her endeavors; but her sadface and questioning eyes drew many of them into firm friends. Especially did she cling to Mildred Vandecar, and raised in thegolden-haired daughter of the governor an idol at whose shrine sheworshiped. 

One Saturday morning in the latter part of March, Mildred Vandecarpersuaded her mother to allow her to go, accompanied by Katherine, tothe Shellington home. They found Ann reading aloud to the twins, Flukeyresting on the divan. Mildred was presented to him, and in the hour thatfollowed the sick boy became her devoted subject. 

The three young people listened eagerly to the story, and after it wasfinished Ann entered into conversation with Katherine. 

Suddenly she heard Flukey exclaim, in answer to some question put byMildred:

"My sister and me ain't got no mother!"

Miss Shellington colored and partly rose; but she had no chance tospeak, for Mildred was saying:

"Oh, dear! how you must miss her! Is she dead? And haven't you anyfather, either?"

"Yep, " said Flukey; "but he ain't no good. He hates us, he does, andworse than that, he's a thief!"

Mildred drew back with a shocked cry. Ann was up instantly; whileFledra got to her feet with effort. She remembered how carefully Ann hadinstructed her never to mention Lon Cronk or any of the episodes intheir early days at Ithaca; but Flukey had never been thus warned. 

"Mildred, dear, " Ann said anxiously, "Floyd and Fledra were unfortunatein losing their mother, and more unfortunate in having a father whodoesn't care for them as your father does for you. " She passed an armabout Fledra and continued, "It would be better if we were not to talkof family troubles any more, Floyd.... Fledra, won't you ask Mildred toplay something for you?"

The rest of Mildred's stay was so strained that Miss Shellingtonbreathed a sigh of relief when Katherine suggested going. For a fewseconds neither Ann nor Fledra spoke after the closing of the door. Itwas the latter who finally broke the silence. 

"Flukey hadn't ought to have said anything about Pappy Lon; but hedidn't know--he thought everybody knew about us.... Are ye going to sendus away now?"

The girl's anxiety and worried look caused Ann to reassure her quickly. 

 * * * * *

In describing the events of the afternoon to her mother, Mildred weptbitterly. When a grave look spread over Mrs. Vandecar's face, Katherineinterposed:

"Aunty, while those children undoubtedly had bad parents, they willreally amount to something, I'm sure. "

It was not until she was alone with Katherine that Mrs. Vandecar openedthe subject. 

"I'm almost afraid I was incautious to allow a friendship to spring upbetween this strange child and Mildred. I wish I could see her. "

"Ask her here, then. She's very pretty, very gentle, and needs youngfriends sadly, although the Shellingtons are treating the two childrenbeautifully. If they don't grow up to be good, it won't be Ann's fault, nor Horace's. "

"I'll invite the child to come some afternoon, then. " With this decisionthe subject dropped. 

 * * * * *

That evening Ann went out on a charitable mission, leaving Fledra todeliver a message to Everett and to care for Floyd. The boy was in bed, his thin white hands resting wearily at his sides. For sometime heallowed his sister to work at her lessons. Then he said impetuously:

"Flea, why be these folks always so kind to you and me? They ain't neverbeen mad yet, and I'm allers a yowlin' 'cause my bones and my heart hurtme. "

Flea looked up from her book meditatively. 

"They're both good, that's why. "

"It's 'cause they pray all the time, ain't it?" Floyd asked. 

"I guess so. "

"I'd a died those nights if Sister Ann hadn't prayed for me, wouldn't I, Flea?"

"Yes, " replied Flea in abstraction. 

After a silence, Floyd spoke again:

"Flea, do you like that feller what Sister Ann's going to marry?"

The girl dropped a monosyllabic negative and fell to studying. 

"Why?" insisted Floyd. 

Before Flea could reply, a servant appeared at the door, saying that Mr. Brimbecomb wanted Miss Shellington. 

[Illustration: "IT WERE A PRINCE--A REAL LIVE PRINCE!"]

Fledra closed her book and went to the drawing-room, where she foundEverett standing near the grate. His brilliant smile made her drop hereyes embarrassedly. She overlooked his extended hand, and made no moveto come forward. The girl had always felt afraid of him. Now hispresence in the room increased her vague fears. Why she had felt thissudden premonition of evil, she did not know, nor did she try to analyzeher feelings. Young as she was, Fledra recognized in him an enemy, andyet his attitude betrayed a personal interest. She had seen him manytimes during the last few weeks; but had managed to escape him throughthe connivance of Miss Shellington. Ann had tactfully explained to thegirl that Mr. Brimbecomb did not feel the same toward her and Flukey asdid her brother; but had added, "It's because he does not know you both, Dear, as Horace and I do. "

Once alone with him, she knew only that she wanted to give him Ann'smessage and return quickly to Floyd. Before she could speak, Brimbecombpassed behind her and closed the door. 

"Sister Ann won't be home for an hour, " said Flea, turning sharply. 

Everett smiled again. 

"Sit down, then, " he said. 

"I can't; I have to study. "

Something in the girl's tones brought a low laugh from Everett. He camecloser to her. 

"You're a deliciously pretty child, " he bantered. "Won't you take holdof my hands?"

Placing her arms behind her, Flea answered:

"No, I don't like ye!" She backed far from him, her eyes burning withanger. 

"You're a very frank little maid, as well as pretty, " drawled Everett. "Ever since I first saw you as a girl, I've wanted to know somethingabout you. Who's your father?"

"None of yer business!" snapped Flea. 

"Frank again, " laughed the lawyer ruefully. "Now, honestly, wouldn't youlike to be friends with me?"

"No! I said I didn't like ye, and I don't! I want to go now. You cansit here alone until Sister Ann comes. "

She looked so tantalizingly lovely, so lithely young, as she flung thedisagreeable words at him, that Brimbecomb impulsively made a steptoward her. He was unused to such treatment and manners. That this girl, sprung from some unknown corner, dared to flaunt her dislike in hisface, made him only the more determined to conquer her. 

"If I wait until Sister Ann comes, " he said coolly, "I shall not waitalone. I insist that you stay here with me!"

"I have to go back to my brother. So let me go by--please!"

Fledra made an effort to pass Brimbecomb; but he grasped herdeliberately in his arms. Drawing her forcibly to him, he exclaimed:

"I've caught my pretty bird! Now I'm going to kiss you!"

Flea's mind flashed back to the day when Lem Crabbe had tried to kissher, and the thought came to her mind that she could have borne thateven better than this. She squirmed about until her face was far belowhis arm, and muttered:

"If you try to kiss me, I'll dig a hole in yer mug!"

Half-mocking at the threat, half-inviting its fulfilment, Everettlaughed. Then, with all his strength, he forced Flea's angry, crimsonedface up to his and closed his lips over her red mouth, kissing her againand again. The girl struggled until she was free. In an uncontrollabletemper she thrust her hand to Everett's face, and he felt herfingernails scrape his cheek. He released her instantly, stepping backin a gasp of rage and surprise. 

Pantingly the girl rubbed her lips with her sleeve. 

"If Sister Ann weren't a lovin' ye, " she flashed at him, "I'd tell herhow cussed mean ye be! If ye ever try to kiss me again, I'll tear yereyes out, Mister!"

She was gone before he could stop her, and, like a young fury boundedinto the presence of Flukey. 

"I know why I hate that feller of Sister Ann's, " she muttered; "'causehe's bad--he's a damn dog! That's what he is!"

With a startled ejaculation, Floyd half-rose; but Ann's step in the hallsent him back on the pillow gasping. 

Fledra sank down at the table, by effort repressing her breath. Sheheard the door open, and when Miss Shellington entered her red face wasbent low over the grammar. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A few seconds before, when Miss Shellington had entered the house, shehad seen Everett's shadow on the drawing-room curtain; but for themoment her habitual concern for Floyd overrode her eagerness to be withher lover, and she hurried to the sickroom. As was her custom, she tookthe boy's hand in hers and examined him closely. With her dailyobservance of him, she had learned to detect the slightest change in hisappearance. Now his flushed cheeks and racing pulse told her he waslaboring under great excitement. 

"Floyd, " she exclaimed in dismay, "you've been talking too much! Yourface is awfully red!... Why, Fledra, I've cautioned you many times--"

At the girl's apparent unconcern, Miss Shellington left the reproachunfinished. She perceived the scarlet cheeks and flashing eyes peeringat her over the open book. 

"Is there anything the matter, Fledra?"

The girl let her gaze fall. 

"You haven't been quarreling with Floyd?"

"Nope, Sister Ann; Flukey and me never have words. "

"I should hope not, " Ann replied sincerely; "but, Fledra dear, when Ispeak to you, please look at me. "

With a shake of the black curls, Fledra lifted her face. 

"Tell me what is the matter with you, " said Ann. 

A glint of steel shown in the gray eyes. Flea's lips opened to speak, and for one moment Ann's happiness was threatened with destruction. Thegirl was on the point of telling her about Everett--then Brimbecomb'svoice rang out from the reception-room. 

"Ann, dear! Aren't you ever coming?"

Fledra noticed Miss Shellington's face change as if by magic, and saw alovelight grow in her eyes. 

In silence, she received Ann's sorrowful kiss. 

"Little sister, I really wasn't scolding you. I was only thinking of howcareful we have to be of Floyd. I--I wish you would be kind to me!"

During the painful constraint that followed, Fledra allowed Ann to leavethe room; but before she had more than closed the door the girl rose andbounded after her. Impulsively she grasped Miss Shellington's arm andthrust herself in front. 

"Sister Ann, " she whispered, "I lied to ye! I was mad at Floyd, as madas--"

Ann placed her finger on the trembling lips. 

"Don't say what you were going to, Dear--and remember it is as great asin to get into such a temper as it is to tell a story. "

"Ye won't tell anyone that I fibbed, will ye--Flukey or yer brother, either?"

Everett's voice called Ann again, and she replied that she was coming. 

Softly kissing the girl, she said:

"If I loved you less, Fledra dear, I should not be so anxious about you. But I'm so fond of you, child! Now, then, smile and kiss me!"

Fledra flung her arms about the other. 

"I keep forgettin'. I'll try not to be bad any more. " Flea turned backinto the room, as Ann hurried away at another call from Everett, andmuttered:

"If I loved ye less, Sister Ann, I wouldn't have lied to ye. "

Floyd's eyes questioned her as she passed him. 

"Fluke, " said she, coming to a halt, "I told Sister Ann I was mad atyou, and I wasn't. You won't tell her, will ye?"

"No, " replied Flukey wonderingly, "I won't tell her nothin'. "

Flea said no more in explanation, and sat again at the study table. Shewas still bent over her book when Shellington opened the door andglanced in. The boy's eyes were closed as if in sleep, and Horacebeckoned to Flea. She rose languidly and walked to him. 

"As your brother is sleeping, Fledra, " he murmured, "come into thelibrary and talk to me awhile. "

There were traces of tears on Fledra's face when Horace ushered her intothe study. 

"Now, little girl, sit down and tell me about your lessons. I've been sobusy lately that I haven't had time to show you my interest.... You'vebeen crying, Fledra!"

"Yes, I got mad, and Sister Ann talked to me. "

"Will you tell me why you became angry?" he queried. 

Flea had not expected this, and had no time to think of a reason for heranger. Deliberating a moment, she placed her head on her arm. It wouldbe dangerous to tell him about Brimbecomb. If the bright-eyed man in thedrawing-room had only let her go before kissing her--if he had onlyremembered his love for Ann! She knew Horace was waiting for her tospeak; but her mind refused absolutely to concoct a reasonable excuse, and she could not tell him a deliberate lie, as she had to Ann. 

For what seemed many minutes Horace looked at her. 

"Fledra, " he said at length, "am I worthy of your confidence?"

His question brought her up with a jerk. Would she dare tell him? Wouldhe be silent if he knew that Sister Ann was being perfidiously used? Shewas sure he would not. 

"If I tell you something, " she began, "you won't never tell anybody?"

"Never, if you don't want me to. "

She leaned forward and looked straight at him. 

"I just lied to Sister Ann, " she said. 

Horace's face paled and he grasped the arms of his chair. Presently heasked sharply:

"Why did you lie to my sister, Fledra?"

"I just did, and you said you wouldn't tell. "

"Was it because you lied to her that you cried?"

She tossed his question over in her mind. She intended to be truthful tohim, unless a falsehood were forced from her to shield Ann. 

"I cried because Sister Ann was so good to me. "

"Are you going to tell me what caused you to be untruthful?" he askedpersistently. 

Fledra shook her head dismally. 

Immeasurable compassion for the primitive, large-eyed child flooded hissoul, and his next words assumed a more tender tone. 

"Of course, you don't mean that you are going to keep it from me?"

Her dark head suddenly dropped again, and a smothered storm of sobs drewhim closer to her. In the silence of arrested speech, he reached for herfingers, which were twisting nervously in the webby lace on her dress. With reluctance Flea permitted herself to be drawn from her chair. 

"Fledra, stand here--stand close to me!" said he. 

Obediently she came to his side, hiding her face in one bended arm. Hecould feel the warmth of her bursting breaths, and he could have touchedthe lithe body had he put out his hand. And then--and not untilthen--did Horace know that he loved her. Yesterday she had seemed only achild; but at this moment she was transformed into a woman, and hissudden passion gave him a lover's right to pass his arm about her. Inbewilderment Flea checked her tears and drew back. He had never beforecaressed her in any way. 

Horace stood up, almost mastered by his new emotion. 

"Fledra, " he breathed, "Fledra, can't you trust me? Dear child, I loveyou so!"

Stunned by his words, Fledra stared at him. His voice had vibrated withsomething she had never heard before. His eyes were brilliant andpleading. 

"Fledra, can't you--can't you love me?"

As if by strong cords, her tongue was tied. 

"Listen to me!" pursued Horace. "I know now I loved you that first nightI saw you--that night when you came into the room with Ann's--"

He stopped at the name of his sister--he had forgotten for the momentFlea's confession of the falsehood to her. Then the seeming injusticedone Ann turned his mind to the probing he had begun at first for thecause of Flea's grief. Intermingled with this was a whirl of thought asto the things that the girl had accomplished. Her entire submission toAnn and himself, her devotion to Floyd, her desire to master thedifficult problems of her new life, all persuaded him that for hishappiness he must know the cause of her agitation. Spontaneously hepressed his open hands to her cheeks. 

"Fledra, Fledra! Can I believe you?"

The girl lowered her head and nodded emphatically. 

"Do you--do you love anyone else--I mean any man?"

His rapidly indrawn breath came forth with almost an ejaculation. Flea'seyes sought his for part of a minute. Then slowly she shook her head, ashadow of a smile broadening her lips. With effort she lifted her armsand whispered:

"I don't love anyone else--that is, no man! Be ye sure that ye loveme?"

Like an impetuous boy he gathered her up, caressing her hair, her eyes, her lips. With sudden passion he murmured:

"Fledra! Fledra dear!"

"I do love ye!" she whispered. "Oh, I do love ye every bit of the day, and every bit of the night, jest like I did when you came to thesettlement and I saw ye on the shore!"

Hitherto she had not told him that she had seen him in Ithaca, and hedid not understand her allusion to a former meeting. To his astonishedlook, she replied by a question. 

"Don't ye remember one day you came to the settlement and asked the wayto Glenwood?"

Horace conjured up a vision of a child of whom he had asked his road, and remembered, in a flashing glance at the girl in his arms, that hehad inwardly commented upon the sad young face. He had noted, too, theunusual shade in her eyes, and now he wondered vaguely that he had notloved her then. 

"I remember--of course I remember! Oh, I want you to say again that youlove me, little dearest, that you love me very much!" His lips roved insweet freedom over her face as he continued, "You're so young, so veryyoung, to have a sweetheart; but if you could only begin to love me--ina few years we could be married, couldn't we?"

Flea's body grew tense with tenderness. She had never heard suchbeautiful words; they meant that her Prince loved her as Ann lovedEverett, as good men loved their wives and good wives loved theirhusbands. Instead of answering, she lifted a pale face intensified bywomanly passion. 

"Will ye kiss me?" she breathed. "Kiss me again on my hair, and on myeyes, and on my lips, because--because I love ye so!"

His strong avowal had opened a deep spring in her heart which overflowedin tears. The taut arms pressed him tightly. The words were sobbed outfrom a tightened young throat. The very passion in her, that abandonmentwhich comes from the untutored, stirred all that was primeval in him, all the desperate longing in a soul newly born. His mouth covered hersagain and again; it sought her closed white lids, her rounded throat, and again lingered upon her lips. After a few moments he sat down anddrew her into his arms. 

"Little love, my heart has never beaten for another woman--only for you, always for you! Fledra, open your eyes quick!"

The brown-flecked eyes flashed into his. Horace bent his head low andsearched them silently for some seconds. 

"I must be sure, Dear, that you love me. Are you very sure?"

"Yes, yes! That's why I felt so bad tonight, when I told ye about lyingto Sister Ann. " There was entreaty in her glance, and her figuretrembled in his arms. Horace started slightly. He had again forgottenher admission. 

"But you will tell me all about it now, won't you, Fledra? Then we cantell Ann and your brother about our love. "

Flea stood up; but Horace still kept his arm about her. Her thoughtsflew to Everett. How unfaithful he had been! Could she confide inHorace, now that she was absolutely his? No; for he would punish Everetteven the more to the detriment of Ann. The thought set her teeth hard. Had she been Ann, and Horace been Everett, had the man she loved beenunfaithful to the point of stealing kisses from another--She took a longbreath. 

But she was not Sister Ann, neither was Horace, Everett. In a twinklingeverything that Horace had been to her since the first day in Ithacaflooded her heart with happiness. Her dreamy imagination, which hadenshrined him king of her life, worked with a new desire that nothingshould interfere with the love that he had showered upon her. He hadsaid, "Do you love me, Dearest?"

The anxious question had thrilled her vibrant being to silence, hadstilled her eager tongue with the magnitude of its passion. Horace waspleading with his eyes, imploring her to answer him. Suddenly he burstout:

"You will tell me, Dear, why you were untruthful to my sister?"

Fledra pondered for a moment. 

"Something happened, " she began, "and Sister Ann came in--I was mad--"

"Were you angry at what happened?"

"Yes. "

Horace led her on. 

"And did Floyd know what had happened?"

"No. "

"And then?" he demanded almost sharply. 

"And then Sister Ann asked me what was the matter, and I lied, and saidI was mad at Floyd. "

Horace still held her. This sweet possession and desire of her filledhim with serious decision. He deliberated an instant on her confession. 

"Now you've told me that much, " said he, "I want to know what happened. "

"I can't tell ye, " she said slowly, "I can't, and ye said that yewouldn't tell anybody about it. "

Horace's arms loosened. Surely she could have no good reason for keepinganything from him! Suddenly he grasped her tightly to him and kissed heragain and again. 

"Of course you'll tell me, of course you will! Tell me all about it. Iwon't have this thing between us! I can't, I can't! I love you!"

It maddened her to hear him chide her thus, filled as she was with allthe primeval qualities of the native woman to feel the strength of herman. How his pleading touched her, how gravely his dear face expressedan anxiety that she herself was unable to banish! Even should he sendher from him, she could not be false to Ann. To this decision thestrong, untutored mind clung, and again she refused him. 

"No, I'm not goin' to tell you. Mebbe some day I will; but not now. "

She heard him take a deep breath which tore savagely at all the bestwithin her. It wrestled with her affection for Miss Shellington, for herduty to Floyd's friend. Not daring to glance up, she still stood insilence. Horace's voice shocked her with the sternness of it. 

"You've got to tell me! I command you! Fledra, you must!" Then, tiltingher chin upward, he continued reproachfully, "If you're going to keepvital things from me, you can't be my wife!"

The resistance against telling him grew faint in her heart in its battlefor desirable things. 

"Ye mean, " she asked, with quick intaking of breath, "that I can't beyour woman if I don't tell you?"

A flush crawled to his forehead as the rich young voice flung thequestion at him. She was so maddeningly beautiful, so young andclinging! But she must bend to his will in a thing like this! In hisdesire to set her right, he answered somewhat harshly. 

"You must tell me; of course, you must!"

Fledra threw him a glance, pleading for leniency. She had expected himto importune, to scold, but in the end to trust. Suddenly, in thegirl's imagination, Ann's gentle face bending over Floyd rose in itsloving kindness. 

"Then--then, " she stammered, "if you won't have me, unless I tellyou--then I'll go now--please!"

She left him with pathetic dignity, and her last glance showed his eyes, too, filled with a strange pain. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next week held unutterable pain for Flea, each twenty-four hoursdeepening her unhappiness more and more. She made no effort to talk withShellington, nor did she mention her sorrow to Ann. It did not seemnecessary to her that she should again speak to Horace of going away. When she had last suggested it, he had said that nothing she could dowould alter his decision about his home being hers until Floyd should bewell. Nevertheless, an innate pride surged constantly within her. Anydeprivation would be more welcome than the studied toleration that, shethought, she encountered in Horace. 

One morning she stood looking questioningly down at her brother. 

"How near well are ye, Fluke?"

"Ain't never goin' to get well!" he replied, shivering. "'Tain't easy toget pains out of a feller's bones when they once get in. "

"If you do get well soon, I think we'd better go away. "

"Why?" demanded Flukey. 

"Because we wasn't asked to stay only till you got well. "

"Don't ye believe it, Flea! Ye wasn't here last night. Brother Horaceand Sister Ann thought I was to sleep, and I wasn't. "

"What did they say?" broke in the girl, with whitening face. 

"Sister Ann told Mr. Shellington about yer work at school, and hesaid--as how--"

Floyd waited a moment before continuing, and Flea crept closer to thebed. She was crying softly as she knelt down and bent her face over herbrother. The boy passed his hands through the black curls. 

"What's the matter, Flea?"

"I want to know what my Prince said to Sister Ann. "

"Be ye crying about him?"

"Yes!"

"Ye love him, I bet!"

Flea buried her face deeper into the soft counterpane; but she managedto make an affirmative gesture with her head. 

Floyd was silent, and sometime passed before he heard the girl'ssmothered voice:

"And I'm goin' to love him always--even after we go away!"

"We ain't goin' away, " said Floyd. 

"Who said so?"

"Mr. Shellington. "

"When?"

"Last night. "

Fledra lifted her head and grasped the boy's thin hands in hers. 

"You're sure it was last night, Fluke?"

"Yep, I be sure. I was layin' here with my face to the wall. When SisterAnn comes in nights, if I don't say anything, she thinks I be asleep, and she kisses me, and I like her to do that. Last night, when she'ddone kissing me, Mr. Shellington came in, and then they talked aboutus. "

"And he didn't say we was to go away?"

"No. "

Fledra rose in sudden determination, and in her excitement spoke withswift reversion to the ancient manner. 

"Flukey, ye be the best da----"

Flukey thrust up a reproving finger which stopped the oath. 

"Flea!" he cautioned. 

"I were only goin' to say, Flukey, " said Flea humbly, "that ye be thebest kid in all the world. Don't tell anybody what I said about myPrince. "

She went out quickly. 

 * * * * *

With her hand upon her heart, Flea halted before the library. She knewthat Horace was there; for she could hear the rustling of papers. At hertimid knock, he bade her enter. Her tongue clove so closely to the roofof her mouth that for a minute she could not speak. She held out herfingers, and Horace took them in his. His face whitened at her touch;but he gazed steadily at her. 

"You've--you've something to say to me, Fledra--sweetheart?"

The hope in his voice rang out clearly. Fledra nodded. 

"What?"

He was determined she should explain away the black thing that hadarisen between them. 

"I didn't come to tell ye about what happened, " said she; "but to saythat, if ye don't smile and don't touch me sometimes, I'll die--I know Iwill!" Her tones were disjointed with emotion, and she felt the handsholding hers tighten. 

"I can't smile when I'm unhappy, Fledra. I can't! I can't! This pastweek has been almost unbearable. "

"It's been that way with me, too, " said Flea simply. 

"Then why don't you make us both happy by being honest with me? If youdidn't care for me, I should have no right to force your confidence; butyou really do, don't you?"

"Yes; but I'm never goin' to marry ye, because mebbe I can't never tellye. I think ye might trust me. It's easy when ye love anyone. I say, yecouldn't marry me without, could ye?" She seemed to suddenly grow old inher sagacious argument. Horace shook his head sadly. 

"We'd never be happy, if I should, " said he, "because--because Icouldn't trust you. "

"Oh, I want ye to trust me!" she wept. "I want ye to! Won't you oncemore? Please do! Won't ye forget that anything ever happened--won't ye?"

For a moment her supplication almost unnerved him; but he thought oftheir future, of the necessity of having unlimited faith and honorbetween them, and again slowly shook his head. 

Suddenly the twisting hands worked themselves loose from his, and inanother instant her feverish arms tightly encircled his neck. By theweight of Flea's body, Horace Shellington knew that her feet were nolonger on the floor, each muscle in the rigid girl having so well doneits part that she hung straight-limbed against him. Close to his facedrew hers, and for a space of time, the length of which he could neverafterward accurately measure, he forgot everything but the maddeningexpression in her face. Her eyelids were closed, and her breath came hotupon his lips. 

"I want ye to kiss me like ye did that night--kiss me--please--please--"In her low voice was illimitable strength and passion. 

Like burning rivers, his blood was driven through his veins. He flungout his arms and crushed her to him. Just then his lips found hers. 

"Dear God! How I--how I love you!" he breathed. 

Fledra's arms relaxed and slipped from his shoulders. 

"Then forget about what happened!" she panted. 

All the bitter apprehensions of the last week swept over him at herwords. His love battled with him, and he wavered. How gladly would hehave dispelled every doubt and listened to her pleading!

"But I want you to tell me, Fledra. "

Flea backed slowly from him. 

"I can't.... I can't.... I can't tell anybody!"

The man ran his fingers across his forehead in bewilderment. In hisbitter disappointment he turned away. 

"When you come to me, " his voice broke into huskiness, "when you tell mewhat happened that night before you saw my sister, I shall--I shall loveyou--forever!"

Then came a single moment of critical silence; but it needed only thethought of Ann for the girl to toss aside his plea and turn upon herheel. 

"I don't want Sister Ann to know that I love ye, " she said sulkily. "Yewon't tell her?"

"No, no, of course not--not yet!" He dropped into his chair, his headfalling forward in his hands. "I wouldn't have believed, " he said frombetween his fingers, "that my love for you--"

Flea stopped him with an interruption:

"Are ye trying to stop lovin' me?"

Horace shook his shoulders, lifting swift eyes to hers. He noted herexpression irrevocable in its decision of silence. She wasextraordinarily lovely, and he grew suddenly angry that he had not thepower to change her, to draw from her unresistingly the story she hadlocked from his perusal. 

"Don't be foolish, Fledra!" he said quite harshly. "A man can't love andunlove at will. I feel as if I should never know another happy moment!"

 * * * * *

For several days Ann watched her brother in dismay. He had growntaciturn and gloomy. The boyish energy had left him. She ventured tospeak to Everett about it. 

"He doesn't seem like the same boy at all, " she said sadly, afterexplaining. "I can't imagine what has caused the change in him. "

Everett remembered Shellington's face as it had bent over Fledra, andsmiled slightly. 

"Have you ever thought lately that he might be in love?"

"In love!" gasped Ann. "No, I know that he isn't; for it was only at thetime of the Dryden Fair that he told me he cared for no one. "

"He might have changed since then, " Everett said quizzically. 

"But he hasn't met anyone lately, " argued Ann. "I know it isn'tKatherine; for--for he told me so. "

"I know someone he met at the fair. "

Ann, startled, glanced up. 

"Who? Do tell me, Everett! Don't stand there and smile so provokingly. If you could only understand how I have worried over him!"

Brimbecomb put on a grave face. 

"Haven't you a very pretty girl in the house who is constantly under hiseye?"

Still Ann did not betray understanding. 

"Don't you think, " asked Everett slowly, "that he might have fallen inlove with--this little Fledra?"

An angry sparkle gleamed in Ann's eyes. 

"Don't be stupid, Everett. Why, she's only a child. It would be awful!Horace has some sense of the fitness of things. "

Everett thought of the evening he himself had succumbed to a desire tokiss Flea. 

"No man has that, " he smiled, "when he is attracted toward a prettywoman. "

"But she isn't even grown up. "

How little one woman understands another! In his eyes Fledra hadmatured; for his masculinity had sought and found the natural oppositeforces of her sex. These thoughts he modified and voiced. 

"Not quite from your standpoint, Ann; but possibly from Horace's. "

Pale and distressed, Ann got to her feet. 

"Then--then, of course, she must go, " she said with decision. "I can'thave him unhappy, and--Why, such a thing could--never be!"

She could scarcely wait for Everett to depart; but suppressed heranxiety and delicately turned the subject out of deference to Horace. She listened inattentively as Brimbecomb explained some new cases thathe was soon to bring to court, and kissed him when he bade hergoodnight. Then, with beating heart, she sought her brother. 

Unsmilingly, Horace asked her to be seated. His face was so stern thatshe dared not at once speak of the fears Brimbecomb had raised in hermind; but at last she said:

"Horace, I've been thinking since our last talk about the children--"His sharp turn in the desk-chair interrupted her words; but she pausedonly a moment before going on resolutely. "Don't you think that I mightput Floyd in a good private hospital where he would be taken care of, and Fledra--"

His face turned ashen. Her fears were strengthened, and, although herconscience stung her, she continued, "Fledra's getting along so wellthat I would be willing to put her in a boarding school. "

"Are you tired of them, Ann?"

"Oh, no--no, far from that! I love them both; but I thought it might bepleasanter for you, if we had our home to ourselves again. "

Horace looked at his sister intently. 

"Are you keeping something back from me, Ann?" he demanded. 

"Scarcely keeping anything from you, Dear; but I want you to be happyand not to--" Horace rose in agitation, and quick tears blurred Ann'ssight. 

"Is there anything I can do for you, Dearest?" she concluded. 

"No!"

Reluctantly she left him, troubled and perplexed. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lem Crabbe had cunningly planned to keep Scraggy under his eye andfollow her to the hiding place of their son. He realized that the ladwas a man now; but so much the better. He would obtain money from him, or he would bring him back to the scow and make him a partner in histrade. In spite of his wickedness, Lem had a strong longing for a sightof his child. Many times he had meditated upon the days Scraggy hadlived in the barge, and, although he had no remorse for his cruelty toher, he had regretted the death of his boy. To be with him, he wouldhave to tolerate the presence of Scraggy for awhile. He felt sure thatFlea had gone from him forever, and the loneliness of his home made himshiver as he entered it a few nights after his conversation withScraggy. 

He had been in the boat but a few moments when he heard Lon's whistleand called the squatter in. 

"I thought we'd make them plans for Tarrytown, " Cronk said presently. "We might as well get to work as to be lazin' about. Don't ye think so?"

"Well, I were a thinkin' of stayin' here for awhile, " stuttered Lem. 

"What for?"

"Nothin' perticular. "

"Ye know where that rich duffer's house be what ye heard Middy Burnesspeak about?"

"Yep. It ain't far from the graveyard. I thought as how we could crawlin there while we was waitin' for night. "

A strange look passed across Lon's face. 

"Ye mean to hide in the cemetray?" he asked. 

"Yep. Be ye afeared?"

"I ain't got no likin' for dead folks, " muttered Cronk. 

He added nothing to this statement; but said after a moment's silence:

"Scraggy ought to go dead herself some of these days, 'cause she'sallers a runnin' about in the storms. I see her ag'in tonight a startin'out for another ja'nt. She had her bundle and her cat and was makin' abee line for Ithaca. "

Lem glanced up quickly. 

"I've changed my mind, Lon, " he grunted. "I'll go to Tarrytown any dayyer ready. "

Accordingly, they took a week to prepare their burglar's kit, which theyhad not used for sometime, and ten days after the slipping away ofScreech Owl, Lon Cronk and Lem Crabbe left the squatter settlement andmade their way to Tarrytown. 

 * * * * *

The once happy household of the Shellingtons had turned into a gloomyabode. Ann was nonplused at the strange behavior of her brother and theunusual reserve of Flea. Floyd from his bedroom endeavored to bring thehome to its former cheerfulness; but, with all Ann's energies and theboy's tireless tact, the change did not come. At length Miss Shellingtongave up trying to bring things to their usual routine. She spent her dayhours in helping Fledra with her school studies and giving Floyd simplelessons at home. Everett came every evening, taking Ann from thesickroom. This left Fledra free to study quietly beside her brother. 

One Thursday, after dinner, Horace went by invitation to Brimbecomb'shome to play billiards. Of late the young men had not passed much oftheir time together; for business and the presence of Fledra and Floydin his house had given Horace less time for recreation. After a silentgame they sat down to smoke. For many minutes they puffed withoutspeaking. Everett finally opened the conversation. 

"It seems more like old times to be here together again. "

"Yes, I've missed our bouts, Everett. "

"You've been exasperatingly conservative with your time lately!"complained Everett. "A fellow can't get sight of you unless your nose ispoked in a book or you're in court!"

Horace laughed. 

"Really, I've been awfully busy since--"

"Since the coming of your wonderful charges!" finished Brimbecomb. 

Horace scented a sneer. His ears grew hot with anger. 

"Ann has done more than I, " he explained; "although there is nothing Iwould not do. "

"I can't understand it at all, old man! Pardon me if I seem dense, butit's almost an unheard-of thing for a fellow in your and Ann's positionsto fill your home with--beggars. " His voice was low, with an inquiringtouch in it. Having gained no satisfaction from Miss Shellington, he wasseeking information from Horace. 

"We don't think of either one of them as beggars, " interjected Horace. "Both Ann and I have grown very fond of them. "

In former days the two young men had been on terms of intimacy. Everettpresumed now upon that friendship by speaking plainly:

"Are you going to keep them much longer?" he asked. 

Horace allowed his lids to droop slowly, and looked meditatively at theend of his cigarette without replying. 

"I have a reason for asking, " Everett added. 

"And may I ask your reason?"

"Yes, I suppose so. The fact is, I'm rather interested in them myself. Ithought--"

Horace lifted his eyes, and the man opposite noted that they had growndarker, that they sparkled angrily. Everett was desirous of satisfyinghimself whether Horace did, or did not, care for the young girl he wassheltering. 

"They don't need your interest so far as a home is concerned, " Horacesaid at last. 

Everett's face darkened as he mused:

"They're lowly born, and such people were made for our servants, and notour equals. If the women are pretty, they might act as playthings. "

Horace turned his eyes toward the speaker wrathfully. He wondered if hehad understood correctly what was implied by the other's words. 

"What did you say, Brimbecomb?"

Everett drew his left leg over his right knee deliberately. 

"I think the girl pretty enough to make a capital toy for an hour, " saidhe. 

Disbelief flooded Shellington's face. 

"You're joking! You're making a jest of a sacred thing, Brimbecomb!"

Everett recalled former principles of the boy Horace, and a smileflickered on his lips. 

"I can't concede that, " said he. "I think with a great man of whom Iread once. Deal honestly with men in business, was his maxim, keep aclean record with your fellow citizens; but, as far as strange women areconcerned, treat them as you wish. It's a man's privilege to--to lie tothem, in fact. "

Without looking up, Horace broke in:

"Ann has an excellent outlook for happiness, hasn't she?"

"We weren't talking about Ann, " snapped Everett. "I was especiallythinking of the girl in your home, who belongs leagues beneath whereyou have placed her. I won't have her there! I think my position is suchthat I can make certain demands on the family of the woman I'm going tomarry. "

"To the devil with your position! I wouldn't give a damn for it, andI'll take up your first question, Brimbecomb. You asked me how long Iintended to keep those children. This is my answer! As long as they willstay, and longer if I can make them!" His voice rang vibrant withpassion. "Don't let your position interfere with what I am doing; for, if you do, Ann, friendship, or anything won't deter me from--"

Brimbecomb rose to his feet and faced the other. 

"Threats are not in order, " said he. 

His deliberate speech made Horace turn upon him. 

"I, too, intend to marry!" was his answer. "I intend to marry--FledraCronk!"

Brimbecomb ejaculated in anger. 

"If you will be a fool, " said he, "it's time your friends took a hand inyour affairs. I think Governor Vandecar will have something to say aboutthat!"

"No more than you have, " warned Horace. "The only regret I have is thatAnn has chosen you for her husband. I'm wondering what she would say ifI repeated tonight's conversation to her--as to a man lying to a woman. "

"She wouldn't believe you, " replied Everett. 

"And you would deny that you so believed?"

"Yes. I told you it was my right to lie to a woman. "

"Then, by God! you're a greater dog than I thought you! Let me get outof here before I smash your face!"

Everett's haughty countenance flamed red; but he stepped aside, andHorace, shaking with rage, left the house. 

"I think I've given him something to think about, " muttered Everett. "He won't be surprised by anything I do now, and I've protected myselfwith Ann against him, too. "

 * * * * *

It was only when alone with Everett that Ann felt completely at herease. Then she threw aside the shadow that many times dismayed her andlooked forward to her wedding day, which was to come in May. Thisevening she was sitting with her betrothed under the glow of a redchandelier. 

"You know, Ann, I haven't given up the idea of finding my own family, "said Brimbecomb presently. "The more I work at law, the more I believe Ishall find a way to unearth them. I told Mr. And Mrs. Brimbecomb that Iintended to spend part of my next year looking for them. Mrs. Brimbecombsaid she didn't know the name under which I was born. I'm convinced thatI shall find them. "

"I hope you do, Dear. "

"You don't blame me, do you, Ann, for wanting to know to whom I'mindebted for life?"

"No, " answered Ann slowly; "although it might not make you any happier. That is what I most wish for you, Dearest--complete happiness. "

Everett lifted her delicate fingers and kissed them. 

"I shall have that when you are my wife, " he said smoothly. 

Later he asked, "Did you speak with Horace of the matter that worriedyou, Ann?"

Miss Shellington sighed. 

"Not in a personal way, " she replied; "but I really think there is morethan either you or I know. Fledra never puts herself in Horace's way anymore; in fact, they have both changed very much. "

"Possibly he has told her that he cares for her, and she has--"

Ann shifted from him uneasily. "If Horace loves her, and has told herso, she could not help but love him in return. She is really growingthin with hard work, poor baby!"

"Does she love Horace?" sounded Everett. 

"I can't tell, although I have watched her very closely. "

A strange grip caught Everett's heart. He could not think of the small, dark girl without a pang of emotion. He had made no effort to seeFledra; yet he was constantly wishing that chance would throw her in hispath. Later, he intended in some way to bring about another interview. He dared not write her a letter, although he had gone so far as to beginone to her, but in disgust at himself had torn it up. The fact thatHorace was unhappy pleased him, now that they had become antagonistic. 

The mystery clinging to Fledra haloed her for Everett beyond the pointof interest. 

"Ann, " he said suddenly, "you haven't told me much about thosechildren--I mean of their past lives. "

"We know so little, " she replied reservedly. 

"But more than you have told me. Have they parents living?"

"A father, I think, " murmured Ann. 

"And no mother?"

"No. "

"Do you know where their father is?"

"He lives near Ithaca, so we're told. " After a silence she continued, "We want them to forget--to forget, ourselves, all about their formerlives. I asked Horace if he wanted to place them in schools; but hedidn't want them to go away. As long as they are as good as they havebeen, they're welcome to stay. Poor little things, they're nothing morethan babies, not yet sixteen!"

"The girl looks older, " commented Everett. 

"That's because she's suffered more than most girls do. I'm afraidit'll be a long time before Floyd is completely well. "

The conversation then drifted to that happy spring day when they wouldbe married. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

From the window of the drawing-room in his home Everett threw a glanceinto Sleepy Hollow and listened to the wind weeping its tale of deaththrough the barren trees. The tall monuments were as spectral giants, while here and there a guarding granite figure reared its ghostlyproportions. But the weird scenery caused no stir of superstition in thelawyer. 

In hesitation, Everett stood for some seconds, the snow falling silentlyabout him; for he was still under the mood that had come upon him duringAnn's parrying of his curiosity concerning the squatter children. As hepaused, the Great Dane, in the kennel at the back of the house, sent outa hoarse bark, followed by a deep growl. So well trained was the dogthat nothing save an unfamiliar step or the sight of a stranger broughtforth such demonstrations. Everett knew this, and walked into thegarden, spoke softly to the animal, and, noting nothing unusual, ran upthe back steps. The door opened under his touch, and he stepped in. Themaids were in the chambers at the top of the house, and quietude reignedabout him. The young master went into the drawing-room, stirred thegrate fire, and sat down with a book. For many moments his eyes did notseek its pages. His meditations took shape after shape; until, dreaming, he allowed the book to rest on his knees. 

Everett was perfectly satisfied with his success as a lawyer. He hadproved to others of his profession in the surrounding county that he wasan orator of no little ability and preëminently able to hold his own inthe courtroom. 

He could not have desired or chosen a better wife than Ann promised tobe; but something riotous in his blood made him dissatisfied withaffairs as they stood now. Manlike, he reflected that, if he had beenallowed to caress Fledra as he had desired, he would have been contentto have gone on his way. He wondered many times why his heart had turnedfrom Ann to another. Something in every thought of Fledra Cronk sent hisblood tingling and set his heart to leaping. His dreams melted intopleasurable anticipations, and he tried to imagine the windings of hisfuture path. Chance had always been kind, and he wondered whether anopportunity to win the affections of the small, defiant girl in theShellington home would be given him. A strain in his blood called forher absolute subjection--and, subdue her he would; for he felt that aninvincible passion slept in her tempestuous spirit. 

Suddenly, from the direction of the cemetery, an owl sent out a mournfulcry, and a furious baying from the dog behind the house sounded. Herose, walked to the window, and surveyed the bleak view through thecurtains. He again noted the tall trees threshing in the wind, and thelooming monuments. Still under the spell of pleasant day-dreams, Everettsilently contemplated the gloomy aspect. He had forgotten the owl andits harsh cry. 

So deeply was he engrossed in his meditations that he did not hear thestealthy turning of the door-handle, and it was not until a distincthiss reached his ears that he turned. A woman, dripping with water, hergray hair hanging in wet strings about a withered face, stole towardhim. Everett was so taken aback by the sight of her and the hissing, cross-eyed cat perched on her shoulder that he could not speak. A newlyborn superstition rose in his heart that the woman was a wraith. Yet anindistinct memory made her black eyes familiar. He did not move from thewindow, and Screech Owl sank to the floor. 

"Little 'un, " she whispered, "I've comed for ye, little 'un!"

The sound of her hoarse voice stirred Everett's senses. He gave one stepforward, and the woman spoke again:

"I telled yer pappy that I'd bring ye!"

Brimbecomb shook his shoulders, his dread deepening. What was thewitch-like woman saying to him, and why was she calling him by the namehe now remembered she had used before? She crept nearer on her knees, her thin hands held up as if in prayer, and, with each swaying movementof her the cat shifted its position from one stooped shoulder to theother. 

Everett found his voice, and asked sharply:

"How did you get into the house?"

Scraggy put up her arm, drew the snarling cat under it, and lookedstupidly at the man. She was so close that he could see the steam risingfrom her wet clothes, and the hisses of the animal were audible abovehis own heavy breathing. Screech Owl smoothed the cat's bristling back. 

"Pussy ain't to hiss at my own pretty boy!" she whispered. "He's mylittle 'un--he's my little 'un!"

A premonition, born of her words, goaded Everett to action. 

"Get up!" he ordered. "Get up and get out of here! Do you want me tohave you arrested?"

Scraggy smiled. 

"Ye wouldn't have yer own mother pinched, little 'un. I'm yer mammy!Don't ye know me?"

He moved threateningly toward her; but a snarl from the furious catstayed him. 

"You lie! You crazy fool! Get up, or I'll kick you out of the house! Getout, I say! Every word you've uttered is a lie!"

"I don't lie, " cried Scraggy. "Ye be my boy. Ain't ye got a long dig onye from--from yer neck to yer arm--a red cut yer pappy made that night Igived ye to the Brimbecomb woman? The place were a bleedin' and ableedin' all through your baby dress. Wait! I'll show ye where it is. "She scrambled up and advanced toward him. 

Everett made as if to strike her. 

"Get back, I say! I would hate you if you were my mother! You can't foolme with your charlatan tricks!"

The woman sank down, whimpering. 

Again Everett sprang forward; but again the cat drove him back. 

"Go--go--now!" he muttered. "I can't bear the sight of you!"

There were tones in his voice that reminded Scraggy of Lem, and herheart grew tender as she thought of the father waiting for his child. 

"Ye won't hate yer pappy, if he does hate me. He wants ye, little 'un. I've come to take ye back to yer hum. He won't hurt ye no more. "

Everett stared at her wildly. Was the delicious mystery that hadsurrounded him for so many years, which had occupied his mind hour uponhour, to end in this? He would not have it so!

"Get up, then, " he said, his lips whitening, "and tell me what you haveto say. "

Scraggy lifted herself up. Her boy wanted to hear more about his father, she thought. 

"I gived ye to the pretty lady with the golden hair when yer pappy hurtye, and I knowed ye again; for the Brimbecomb's name was on the boatthat took ye. Yer pappy didn't know ye were a livin' till a littlewhile ago, and he wants ye now. "

"Were you married to him, this man you call my father?" demandedEverett. 

Scraggy shook her head. 

"But that don't make ye none the less his'n, an' ye be goin' with me, yebe!"

Everett no longer hoped that the woman was either mistaken or lying. Thestamp of truth was on all she had said. He knew in his heart that he wasin the presence of his mother--this ragged human thing with wild, darkeyes and straggling hair. And somewhere he had a father who was as evilas she looked. For years Everett had struggled against the bad in hisnature; but at that moment he lost all the remembrance of the lessons ofhis youth, of the goodness taught him by his foster father and mother. It flashed into his mind how embarrassed Mrs. Brimbecomb had been whenhe had constantly brought up the subject of his own family, and howimpatiently Mr. Brimbecomb had waved aside his petitions forinformation. They should never know that he had found out the secret ofhis birth, and he breathed thanks that they were not now in Tarrytown. Neither Ann nor Horace should ever learn of the stain upon him; but thegirl with the black curls should make good to him the suffering of hisnew-found knowledge! She came of a stock like himself, of blood in whichthere was no good. 

Everett forgot the dripping woman before him as a dark thought leapedinto his mind. He could now be at ease with his conscience! Of a sudden, he felt himself sink from the radius of Horace Shellington's life--downto the birth level of the boy and girl next door. It dawned upon him, ashis mind swept back over his boyhood days, that Horace had ever beenbetter than he, with a natural abhorrence against evil. 

[Illustration: "LITTLE 'UN, I'VE COMED FOR YE LITTLE 'UN!"]

When Scraggy again spoke, he turned burning eyes upon her. How he hatedher, and how he hated the man who called himself his father, wherever hemight be! He shut his teeth with a grit, and, unmindful of the cat, bentover Screech Owl. He forced her head so far back that she moaned andloosened her hold upon Black Pussy, who sprang snarling into the corner. 

"If you ever repeat that story to anyone, that I'm your son, I'll killyou! Now go!"

Scraggy began to cry weakly, and Black Pussy howled as if in sympathy. 

"Shut up, and keep that cat quiet! You'll draw down the servants. Nowlisten to me! You say you're my mother--but, if you ever breathe it toanyone, or come round here again, I shall certainly kill you!"

The thoughts began to scurry wildly in Scraggy's head. Everett's threatto kill her had not penetrated the demented brain, and his roughhandling had been her only fright. She could think of nothing but thatLem was waiting for them at the scow. 

She dragged herself away from Everett, and with a torn skirt wiped herghastly face. She dropped the rag to grope dazedly for the cat, andwhispered:

"Ye can do anything ye want to with yer ole mammy, if ye'll come backwith me to Ithaca!"

"Ithaca, Ithaca!" Everett repeated dazedly. "Was that child you spoke ofborn in Ithaca?"

"Yep, on Cayuga Lake. "

"Get up, get up, or I'll--I'll--" His voice came faintly to Screech Owl, and she moaned. 

The man's mind went back to his Cornell days when he had been consideredone of the richest boys in the university. His sudden degradation, thefalling of his family air-castles, made him double his fists--and withhis blow Scraggy dropped into a motionless heap. 

His bloodshot eyes took in her prostrate form, guarded by the fluffedblack cat, and his one thought was to kill her--to obliterate herentirely from his life. He stepped nearer, and Black Pussy's ferociousyowl was the only remonstrance as he stirred Scraggy roughly with hisfoot. 

The thought that her boy did not want to go with her coursed slowlythrough the woman's brain. She knew that without him Lem would notreceive her. She longed for the warmth of the homely scow; she wantedLem and the boy--oh, how she wanted them both! She half-rose and lungedforward. Brimbecomb's next blow fell upon her upturned face, stunningher as she would have made a final appeal. The woman fell to the floorunconscious, and Everett kicked Black Pussy into the hall. There was asnarling scramble, and when he opened the front door the cross-eyed catbounded out into the night. 

Everett returned hastily to the drawing-room after a covert search ofthe hall for disturbers. In the doorway he hovered an instant, and thenadvanced quickly to the figure on the floor. Lifting the limp woman, hebore her out of the house and down the slushy steps. With strength thathad come through the madness of his new knowledge, he threw the bodyover into the graveyard and bounded after it. Once more then he tookScraggy up, and, stumbling frequently in the half-light, carried her tothe upper end of the cemetery. Here he deposited the body in asnow-filled gully by a vault. Ten minutes later he was staring at hismirrored reflection in his own room, convinced that, if he had notalready killed her, the woman would be dead from exposure beforemorning. The cat had disappeared, and all traces of the night'svisitation had been removed. 

 * * * * *

Several hours before, Lem Crabbe and Lon Cronk had slunk into Tarrytown. The snow still fell heavily when they made their preparations to enterthe home of Horace Shellington. About five in the afternoon they hadworked their way against this sharp north wind to Sleepy Hollow Cemeteryand had entered it. Until night should fall and sleep overtake the city, they planned to remain there quietly. Not far from the fence they tookup their station in an unused toolhouse, smoking the next hours away insilence. 

When ten o'clock neared, Lem stole out; but he came back almostimmediately, cursing the wild night in superstitious fear. 

"The wind's full of shriekin' devils, Lon, " he said, "and 'tain't timefor us to go out. Be ye afeard to try it, old man?"

"Nope, " replied the other; "but I wish we had that cuss of a Flukey toopen up them doors, or else Eli was here. This climbin' in windows behard on a big man like me and you with yer hook, Lem. "

Lem grunted. 

"I'll soon have a boy what'll take a hand in things, with us, Lon, " hesaid, presently. "I ain't sayin' nothin' jest yet; but when ye see himye'll be glad to have him. "

"Whose boy be he?" demanded Lon. 

"Ain't goin' to tell. "

Lon ceased questioning, dismissing the subject with a suggestion that hehimself should reconnoiter the ground. He left Lem, groped his way amongthe gravestones for several yards, and brought up abruptly at the fence. From here he eyed the Brimbecomb mansion for some minutes; then he casthis glance to the steps of the Shellington home beyond. After a fewseconds a young man ran down the stairs, and Lon slunk back to Lem inthe toolhouse. An instant later both men were startled by the cry of anowl. Lem rose uneasily, while Lon stared into the darkness. 

"That weren't a real owl, were it, Lon?" Lem muttered. 

"Nope, " growled Lon; "it sounded more like Scraggy. "

He looked at the one-armed man with suspicion. 

"Can't prove it by me, " said Lem darkly. 

"Do ye know where she ever goes to?" demanded Cronk. 

Lem shook his head in negation. 

Crabbe dared not venture out again alone; for apprehension rose strongwithin him. He knew that Scraggy had left the settlement to find theirboy. Had she come to Tarrytown for him? The two men crouched low, andtalked no more during some minutes. Finally, Lon, bidding Lem followhim, lifted his big body, and they left the toolhouse. The squatter ledthe way to the fence. They stood there for a time watching in silence. Two shadows appeared upon a curtain of the house before them. A man waslifting a woman in his arms, and the downward fall of her head gaveevidence of her unconsciousness. As the front door opened, the squatterand the scowman retreated to their quarters. When Everett Brimbecombthrew the body of Screech Owl into the cemetery, both were peering out. They saw the man carry the figure off into the shadows, marking that hereturned alone. Neither knew that the other was Scraggy; but, with alust for mystery and evil, they slipped out with no word. Lon made offto view the Shellington home once more, and Lem disappeared in thedirection from which Everett had come, easily following the tracks inthe snow. Coming within sight of the vault, Lem rounded it fearfully. Onthe ground he saw the woman, and as he looked she rose to a sittingposition. 

Screech Owl was just recovering her battered senses. She was stilldazed, and had not heard the scowman's footsteps, nor did she now hearthe mutterings in his throat. Faintly she called to Black Pussy; but, receiving no response from the cat, she crawled deeper into the shadowsof the vault and tried to think. Her fitful whining brought Lem from hishiding place. 

"Be that you, Owl?" he whispered. 

"Yep. Where be the black cat?"

"I dunno. Where ye been? And how'd ye get here?"

Scraggy leaned back against the marble vault in exhaustion. 

"I dunno. Where be I now?"

Lem bent nearer her, shaking her arm roughly. 

"Ye be in Tarrytown. Did ye come here for the brat?"

"What brat be ye talkin' 'bout, Lem?"

"Our'n, Screechy. Weren't ye here lookin' for him?"

Through the darkness Lem could not see the crazed expression thatflashed over Scraggy's face. She thrust her fingers in her hair andshivered. The blow of Everett's fist had banished all memory of the boyfrom her mind; but Lem lived there as vividly as in the olden days. 

"We ain't got no boy, Lem, " she said mournfully. 

"Ye said we had, Screechy, and I know we have. Now, get up out of thatthere snow, or ye'll freeze. "

The scowman helped Screech Owl to her feet, and supported her back overthe graves to the toolhouse. 

"Ye stay here till I come for ye, Scraggy, and don't ye dare go 'way noplace. Do ye hear?"

Screech Owl uttered an obedient assent, and Lem left her with a threatthat he would beat her if she moved from the spot. Then he crawled alongthe Brimbecomb fence, and saw Lon leaning against a tree, some distancedown the road. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After Everett's departure, Ann tripped into Floyd's room in a happierstate of mind than had been hers for several days. It had been her habitto kneel beside the boy at night and send up a petition for hisrecovery. Now she would thank God for his goodness to her, --Everett hadcome to be more like himself, and Floyd's welcoming smile sent a thrillof joy through her. As Ann entered, Fledra looked up from her book. Herpale, beseeching face drew Miss Shellington to her. 

"Fledra dear, you study too late and too hard. You don't look at allwell. "

"I keep tellin' her that same thing, Sister Ann, " said Floyd; "but shekeeps mutterin' over them words till I know 'em myself. "

Miss Shellington turned Fledra's face up to hers, smoothing down thedark curls. 

"Go to bed, child; you're absolutely tired out. Kiss me goodnight, Dear. "

Fledra loitered in the hall until she heard Miss Shellington leaveFloyd; then she stole forward. 

"Will you come to my room a little while, Sister Ann?"

Without a word, Ann took the girl's hand; together they entered the blueroom. 

Fledra wheeled about upon Miss Shellington, when the door had been, closed. 

"Do you believe all those things you pray about, Sister Ann?" sheappealed brokenly. 

Ann questioned Fledra with a look; the girl made clearer her demand byadding:

"Do you believe that Jesus hears you when you ask Him something you wantvery, very bad?"

She looked so miserable, so frail and lonely, that Ann put her armsabout her. 

"Sit down here with me, Fledra. There! Put your little tired head righthere, and I'll tell you all I can. "

"I want to be helped!" murmured Fledra. 

"I've known that for sometime, " Ann said softly; "and I'm so happy thatyou've come to me!"

"It's nothin' you can do; but I was thinkin' that perhaps Jesus could doit. "

Ann pressed the girl closer. 

"Is it something you can't tell me?"

Fledra nodded. 

"And you can't tell my brother?"

The girl's nervous start filled Ann with dismay; for now she knew thatthe trouble rested with Horace. She waited for an answer to herquestion, and at length Fledra, crestfallen, blurted out:

"I can't tell anybody but--"

"Jesus?" whispered Ann. 

"Yes; and I don't know how to tell Him. "

Ann thought a moment. 

"Fledra, if you wanted someone to do something for you, about which thatperson knew nothing, wouldn't you have to tell it before it could begranted?"

Fledra nodded. 

"Then, that's what you are to do tonight. You are to kneel down herewhen I am gone, and you are to feel positively sure that God will help, if you ask Him in Jesus' name. Do you think you have faith enough to dothat?"

"I don't know what faith is, " replied Fledra in a whisper. 

"I'll tell you what it is, Dear. Now, then, don't you remember how mybrother and I prayed for Floyd?"

Fledra pressed Ann's arm. 

"And don't you remember, Dear, that almost immediately he was helped?"

"You had a doctor, " said Fledra slowly. 

"Yes, for a doctor is God's agent for the good of mankind; but we hadfaith, too. And in something like this--Is your trouble illness?"

"Only here, " answered Flea, laying her hand upon her heart. 

Ann could not force Flea's confidence; so she said:

"Then if it is impossible to confide in Horace, or in me, will you praytonight, fully believing that you will be answered? You must rememberhow much Jesus loved you to come down to suffer and die for you. "

"I don't believe I thought that story was true, Sister Ann. " Fledra drewback, and looked up into Ann's shocked face as she spoke, "I shouldn'tsay I believed it if I didn't, should I?"

"No, Darling; but you must believe--you surely must! You must promise methat you will pray first for faith, then for relief, and tomorrow youwill feel better. "

"I promise, " answered Fledra. 

For many minutes after Ann had left her, the girl lay stretched out uponthe bed. Her heart pained her until it seemed that she must go directlyto Horace and confess her secret. 

She got up slowly at last, and, kneeling, began a whispered petition. Itwas broken by sobs and falling tears, by writhings that tore the tendersoul offering it. 

Fledra prayed for Horace, and then stopped. 

After a time she rose, having done all a girl could do for those sheloved, and, undressing, slowly crawled into bed. Through the darkness asshe lay looking upward she tried to imagine what kind of a being Godwas, wondering if He were kindly visaged, or if, when His earthlychildren sinned, He looked as Horace had looked when she confessed thelie told to Ann. In her imagination, she framed the Savior of the worldlike unto the man she loved when he smiled upon her, and then shebelieved, and believed mightily. In likening Jesus to Horace--inbringing the Savior nearer through the lineaments of her loved one--shegathered out of her unbelief a great belief that He could, and would, smooth away all the troubles that had arisen in her life. 

 * * * * *

That night she turned and tossed for several hours, praying and weeping, weeping and praying, until from sheer fatigue she lay perfectly quiet. Suddenly she sat up and listened. The stupor of slumber dulled herhearing, and she struggled to catch again the sound that had awakenedher. From somewhere across the hall she heard a faint click, click, which sounded as though some mechanic's tool were being used. 

Fledra slipped from the bed and opened the door stealthily. She creptalong the hall in her bare feet, terrified by the muffled sound, andstopped before the velvet curtains that were drawn closely across thedining-room doorway. Someone was tampering with the silver chest. 

For a moment terror almost forced Fledra back to her room withoutinvestigating; but the thought that somebody was stealing Ann's preciousfamily plate caused her to slip her fingers between the curtains andpeep in. 

The lock of the steel safe was lighted by the rays of a dark-lantern, and Fledra could see two shadowy figures on the floor before it. Oneheld the light, while the other turned a small hammer machine containinga slender drill. The girl did not have the courage to scream a warningto Horace and the servants, and before she could move of a sudden one ofthe men whispered:

"The damn thing is harder'n hell, Lem. I guess I'll take a crack at thishere hinge. "

The name awoke the senses of the trembling girl, and instantly she knewthe man who had spoken to be Lon Cronk. A chill gathered round her heartand froze the very marrow in her bones. She dropped the curtain and fledback to her room. Standing against the door, she pressed her hands overher face to stifle the loud breathing. Lem and Lon were robbing thehouse! She would be forced then to let thieves have the contents of thesafe; for, if Pappy Lon knew that she and Flukey were housed there, hewould take them away. But, if he made off with the plate, no one wouldever know who had done it, and her sick brother would still be safe inAnn's care. 

"I won't go to 'em. I won't! I won't! They can take the whole thing forall of me!"

She turned sharply as though she had heard a voice that had made answerto her. With her faculties benumbed by the terror of the men in thedining-room, and yet remembering that her grief had been subdued, sheturned her face upward, and fancied she saw the Christ-man, so likeHorace, descending into the room. But the face, instead of smiling ather, looked melancholy and sad. 

It was the dawn of a lasting belief in the Son of God, her first realvision of Him. She gazed steadily at the beautiful apparition, and thensaid haltingly:

"I'm goin' back to stop 'em, and if Pappy Lon takes me back to thesquatter settlement then help me if ye can, dear Jesus!"

The struggle was over, and with rigid desperation Fledra again openedthe door and stepped into the hall. Gliding swiftly along to theentrance of the dining-room, she flung aside the curtains and appearedlike a shade before Lem and Lon. 

The squatter saw her first; but in the semidarkness did not recognizeher. He lifted his arm, and a flash of steel sent her tremblingbackward. 

"Don't open yer mug, Kid, or I'll shoot yer head off!"

Then he recognized her, and stepped back to Lem's side. 

"It's Flea, it's Flea Cronk!" he gasped. 

The girl advanced into the room. 

"What do you want here, Pappy Lon? Did you come to steal?"

She saw Lem grimacing at her through the rays of the lantern. Thescowman looked so evil, so awful, as he grinningly raised his steelhook, that her faith very nearly fled. Crabbe's heavy face was workingwith violent emotion. His full neck moved with horrid convulsions, whilea discord of low noises came from his throat. The girl, clad in herwhite nightgown, under which he could trace the slender body, filled himagain with passionate longing. 

"By God! it's little Flea!" he exclaimed at last. 

"Yep, " threw back Lon. "We found somethin' we didn't expect--eh, Lem?"

"Did you come to steal?" Fledra demanded again, this time looking at thecanalman. 

"Yep; but we didn't know that you was here, Flea. "

"Then you won't take anything--now, will you?"

"We don't go till you come with us, Flea!" Lon moved nearer her as hespoke. "Ye be my brat, and ye'll come home with yer pappy!"

Fledra choked for breath. 

"I can't go with you tonight, " she replied, bending over insupplication. "Flukey's sick here, and I have to stay. "

"Sick! Sick, ye say?" Cronk exclaimed. 

"Yes, he's been in bed ever since we left home, and he can't walk, and Iwon't go without him. "

"I'll take ye both, " said Lon ferociously. "I'll come after ye, and I'llkill the man what keeps ye away from me! I'm a thinkin' a man can havehis own brats!"

Fledra did not set up an argument upon this point. She wanted to get themen out of the house, so that she might think out a plan to save herbrother and herself. 

"Ye'll have to let Flukey stay until he gets well, and then mebbe we'llcome back. "

"There ain't no mebbe about it, " growled Lon. "Ye'll come when I say it, and Lem ain't through with ye yet, nuther! Be ye, Lem?"

Never, since the children had left his hut, had Lon felt such a desireto torture them. The dead woman seemed to call out to him for revenge. The wish for the Shellington baubles and the money he might find wasnothing compared to the delight he would feel in dragging the twins backto Ithaca. Granny Cronk was there no longer, and everything would go hisway! He put out his hand and touched Crabbe. 

"We ain't goin' to steal nothin' in this house, Lem, " he said sullenly;"but I'll come tomorry and take the kids. Then we be done with thistown. Ye'll get yer brother ready by tomorry mornin'. Ye hear, Flea?"

"Yes, " answered Flea dully. 

"If Flukey be too sick to walk, he can ride. I've got the money, and allI want be you two brats, and, if ye don't come when I tell ye to, thenit'll be worse for them what's harborin' ye. And don't ye so much asbreathe to the man what owns this house that we was heretonight--or--I'll kill Flukey when I get him back to the shanty!"

His glance took in the beautiful room, and, unable to suppress a smile, he taunted:

"I'm a thinkin' ye'll see a difference 'tween the hut and thisplace--eh, Flea?"

"And between this and the scow, " chuckled Lem. 

"Yep, 'tween this an' the scow, " repeated Lon. "Come on, Lem. We'll gonow, an' tomorry we'll come for ye, Flea. No man ain't no right to keepanother man's kids. "

Fledra's past experiences with her squatter father were still so vividin her mind that she made no further appeal to him; for she feared tosuffer again the humiliation of a blow before Lem. She stood near thetable, shivering, her teeth chattering, and her body swaying with frightand cold. To whom did she dare turn? Not to Ann or to Horace; for Lonhad forbidden it. To tell Flukey would only make him very ill again. Lonwas advancing toward her as these thoughts raced through her mind. Shedrew back when he thrust out one of his horny hands. 

"I ain't a goin' to hit ye, Flea; but I'm goin' to make ye know that Iain't goin' to have no foolin', and that ye belong to me, and so doesFlukey, and that, when I come for ye, ye're to have yer duds ready. "

Lem neared the open window, and Lon turned to follow him. 

 * * * * *

For fully three minutes after they had gone, the girl stood watching theblack hole through which they had disappeared, where now the snow camefluttering in. Then she crept forward and lowered the windownoiselessly. With swift footsteps she ran back through the hall and intothe bedroom. After turning on the light, she drew on a dressing-gown andslipped her feet into a pair of red slippers. 

Somewhere from the story above came the sound of footfalls, and thenthe creaking of stairs. The girl stood holding her hand over her beatingheart. A servant, or possibly Ann, had heard the noises and was comingdown. Suddenly into her mind came the prayer Floyd loved. 

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little child. "

She said the words over several times; but had ceased whispering when alow knock came upon her door. She opened it, and saw Horace standing inhis dressing-gown and slippers. For a moment she looked at him withalmost unseeing eyes, and her lips moved tremulously, as if she wouldspeak and could not. Horace, noticing her agitation, spoke first. 

"Fledra, I thought I heard you. I looked down and saw a light shiningfrom your window. Is anything the matter?"

Fledra could not find her voice to reply. She had not expected him, and, locking her fingers tightly together, she stood wide-lidded andtrembling. 

"Were you speaking to someone?" asked Horace. 

"Yes, I was. I was speaking to Jesus just before you came. I was askingHim to help me. "

The man looked at the red gown hanging over her white nightrobe, thetossed black curls, and the pale, sensitive face before he said:

"Fledra, whatever is the matter with you? Surely, there is something Ican do. "

"Sister Ann said I would be happier, and we all would, if I asked Jesus;and I was askin' Him jest now. "

Horace eyed her dubiously. 

"It is right to ask Him to help you, of course; but, child, it isn'tright for you to act toward me as you do. "

Fledra was so desirous of his love and confidence that she made as if tospeak. She took two steps forward, then hesitated. Remembering Ann andthe care she had given Floyd, her hand fell convulsively on the door, and she tried to close it. She dared not tell him of Lon's midnightvisit to the home, and wondered if he would give her up to her squatterfather, and let Flukey be taken back to the settlement. 

"I told ye the truth when I said I was prayin', " she said; "but I wasthinkin', too, if it was right for a father to have his own children, ifhe was to ask for 'em. "

Horace, not understanding her enigmatical words, regarded her gravely. 

"What a queer girl you are, anyway, Fledra!" he exclaimed. He spokealmost irritably. He felt like grasping her up and shaking her as onemight an obstreperous child. 

His moody silence made Fledra repeat her words. 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, " Horace answered; "but, I suppose, if a father's children were being kept from him, he could take them ifhe wished. Fledra, look at me!"

She raised her gaze slowly, her somber eyes smiting the watching man asmight a blow. Her beseeching expression arrested the bitter speech thatrose to his lips. As the memory of her hard work gripped him, he bentforward and took her slim, cold hand in his. 

"Fledra, I want you to pay attention to what I am going to say. I feelsure that you want to be a good girl. If I were not, I could not bearit. Even if you don't trust me, I'm going to help you all I can, anyway. "

"And pray, " gasped Fledra, "pray, Brother Horace, that I can be justwhat you want me to be, and that I can stay with Floyd in your house!"

The girl closed the door quickly in his face, and Shellington movedslowly away, racking his brain for some solution of the problem. 

With their minds in a perturbed state, Lem and Lon passed silently backinto the cemetery. The shock of the girl's appearance had awed themboth. They were nearing the toolhouse before Scraggy came into Lem'smind. 

The whole situation was changed, now that Flea was coming to him. It wasthe same to him whether she wanted to come or not; nor did it matterthat he had promised Screech Owl that she should be in the scow. Hestill wanted his boy to help him with his work; but Scraggy was a personwholly out of his life. 

The two men halted in front of the shed. 

"There be a woman in there, " said Lem in a low voice. 

"What woman?" asked Lon. 

"Scraggy. "

"Scraggy! How'd she come in here?"

"I took her in, " said Lem. "She were the woman what that guy throwedover the fence. "

Lon pushed his companion aside and pressed through the small doorway. Hecast the light of the lantern about; but no Screech Owl was in sight. 

"If Scraggy was over here, Lem, " he said doubtfully, "then she's gone. We'd better scoot and get a place to stay all night. "

CHAPTER TWENTY

When Fledra entered the breakfast room it was evident to both Ann andHorace that she had had no sleep. Dark rings had settled under her eyes. The girl had decided that Lon would make good his threat against theperson who should try to keep his children from him, and, if she went toschool, Lem and her father might come when she was gone. As they rosefrom the table, she said sullenly:

"I'm not goin' to school any more. I don't like that place. I want tostay at home. "

"Are you ill, Dear?" asked Ann, coming forward. 

"No, I'm not sick; but I can't go to school. "

Horace's brow darkened. 

"That's hardly the way to speak to my sister, Fledra, " he chided gently. 

Ann glanced at him in appeal. Fledra was standing before them, and hereyes dropped under his words. 

"If I asked you to let me stay home, " she said in a low tone, "you'dboth say I couldn't; so I just had to say that I won't go. "

Fledra knew no other way to stand guard over the houseful of loved ones. If Lon were to come while she was gone, he might take her brother. Ifshe told Horace that thieves had entered his home, and if she namedthem, that would draw fatal consequences down on Floyd. She could onlyhold her peace and let matters take their course. At any rate, she didnot intend to go to school. Now she cast a quick glance at Ann; but kepther eyes studiously from Horace. Noting Miss Shellington's entreatingface, Fledra flung out her hands. 

"I didn't want to be mean, " she said quickly; "but I want you to let mestay home today. Can I? Please, can I?"

"There! I knew that you'd apologize to my sister, " Horace said, smiling. 

At this, Fledra turned upon him. He had never felt a pair of eyes affecthim as did hers. How winsomely sweet she was! It came over him in aflash that he had not dealt quite justly with her; so he smiled againand held out his hands. 

 * * * * *

During the morning Fledra crept ghostlike about the house. She strainedher eyes, now at one window and then at another, for the first glimpseof Lon. The luncheon hour came and passed, and still the thieves gave nosign of coming. Horace had returned from his office early in theafternoon, and was smoking a cigar in the library, when suddenly a loudpeal of the doorbell roused him. Fledra, too, heard it distinctly. Shewas sitting beside Floyd; but had not dared to breathe their danger tohim. Her cheeks paled at the sound, and she rested silent untilpresently summoned to the drawing-room. 

"What's the matter?" asked her brother. 

"Nothin', Fluke, lay down, and if ye hear anyone talkin' keep still. Somebody's coming. "

"Somebody comes every day, " answered Floyd. "That ain't nothin'. What yedoin', Flea?"

She was standing at the door with her ear to the keyhole. She heard theservant pass her, heard the door open, and Lon's voice asking for Mr. Shellington. Then she slid back to Flukey, trembling from head to foot. 

"Ye're sick, Dear, " said the boy. "Get off this bed, Snatchet! Lay downhere by me, Flea and rest. "

The girl dropped down beside him and closed her eyes with a groan. Floydplaced his thin hand upon her, and Fledra remained silent, until she wassummoned to the drawing-room. 

 * * * * *

"Who wanted me?" Horace asked the question of the mystified servant. 

"I didn't catch the name, Sir. I didn't understand it. He's adreadful-looking man. "

Horace rose, put down his cigar, and walked into the hall. 

Lon Cronk was waiting with a shabby cap in his hand. He bowed awkwardlyto Shellington, and essayed to speak; but Horace interrupted:

"Do you wish to see me?"

"Yep, " answered Lon, glancing sullenly over the young lawyer. "I've comefor my brats. "

"Your what?"

"My kids, Flea and Flukey Cronk. "

Horace felt something clutch at his heart. Fledra's radiant face rosebefore his mental vision, and he swallowed hard, as he thought of herrelation to the brutal fellow before him. 

"Walk in here, please, " he said. 

Then he bade the servant call his sister. 

Miss Shellington obeyed the summons so quickly that her brother wasindicating a chair for the squatter as she walked in. At sight of theuncouth stranger she glanced about her in dismay. 

"Ann, " said Horace, "this is the father--of--"

Ann's expression snapped off his statement. She knew what he would saywithout his finishing. She remembered the stories of terrible beatings, and the story of Fledra's fear of a wicked man who wanted her for hiswoman. The boy's words came back to her plainly. "And he weren't goin'to marry her nuther, Mister, and that's the truth. " Nevertheless, shestepped forward, throwing a look from her brother to the squatter. 

"But he can't have them--of course, he can't have them!"

Lon had come with a determination to take the twins peaceably if hecould; he would fight if he had to. He had purposely applied toShellington in his home, fearing that he might meet Governor Vandecar inHorace's office. As long as everyone thought the children his, he couldhold to the point that they had to go back with him. He would make nocompromise for money with the protectors of his children; for he hadrather have their bodies to torment than be the richest man in thestate. He had not yet avenged that woman dead and gone so many yearsback. At thought of her, he rose to his feet and smiled at Ann withtwitching lips. 

"Ye said, Ma'm, that I couldn't have my brats. I say that I will have'em. I'm goin' to take 'em today. Do ye hear?"

"He can't have them, Horace. Oh! you can't say yes to him!"

Horace's mind turned back to Fledra, and he mentally blessed theopportunity he had to protect her. 

"I don't think, Mr. Cronk, that you will take your children, " he said, "even granted that they are yours. I'm not sure of that yet. "

Lon's brown face yellowed. Had they discovered the secret that he hadkept all the dark, revengeful years?

Horace's next words banished that fear: "I shall have to have youidentified by one of them before I should even, consider yourstatement. "

Cronk smiled in relief; and Ann shuddered, as she thought of Flukey'sfrail body in the man's thick, twisting fingers. 

"That be easy enough to do. Jest call the gal--or the boy. "

"The boy is too ill to get up, " said Ann huskily; "and I beg of you togo away and leave them with us. You don't care for them--you know youdon't. "

"Who said as how I don't care for my own brats?"

"The little girl told me the night she came here that you hated her, andalso that you abused them. "

"I'll fix her for that!" muttered Lon. 

"I don't believe you'll touch her while she is with me, " said Horacehotly. "I shall send for the girl, and, if you are their father, then--"

"They can't go!" cried Ann. 

"I haven't said that they could go, Ann. I was just going to say to Mr. Cronk that if they wanted to go of course we couldn't keep them. Otherwise, there is a remedy for him. " Horace leaned over toward thesquatter and threw out his next words angrily, "There's the law, Mr. Cronk! Ann, please call Fledra. "

 * * * * *

The girl responded with the weight of the world on her. Had somearrangements been made for her and Floyd between Horace and Lon? Sheknew that Ann was there, and that Mr. Shellington had been talking withthe squatter long enough to decide what should be done. She walkedslowly to the door, her head spinning with anxiety and fear. For onesingle moment she paused on the threshold, then stepped within. 

Drop by drop, the color went from her cheeks, leaving them waxen white. She threw the squatter an unbending opposing glance. 

"Did you come for Fluke and me, Pappy Lon?" she stammered. 

Her lips trembled perceptibly; but she went forward, and, taking Ann'shand in hers, stood facing Cronk. 

Lon looked her over from head to foot. First, his gaze took in thepretty dark head; then it traveled slowly downward, until for an instanthis fierce eyes rested on her small feet. 

"Yep, " he replied, raising a swift look, "I comed for ye both--you andFlukey, too. Go and git ready!"

Fledra dared not appeal to Horace. He stood so quietly in his place, making no motion to speak, that she felt positive that he wished her togo away. She was too dazed to count up the sum of her troubles. Her facefell into a shadow and grew immeasurably sad. Lon was glowering at her, and she read his decision like an open page. The dreadful opposition inhis shaggy brown eyes spurred Fledra forward; but Ann's arms stole abouther waist, and the slender figure was drawn close. A feeling ofthanksgiving rushed over the girl. How glad she was that she had keptthe secret of Everett's unfaithfulness!

"Sister Ann, " she gasped, "can't ye keep us from him? Fluke nor me don'twant to go, and Pappy Lon don't like us, either. I couldn't go--I'druther die, I would! He'd make me go to Lem's scow! Ye can see I can'tgo, can't you?" She wheeled around and looked at Horace, her eyes filledwith a frightened appeal. Shellington's glance was compassionate andtender. 

"I not only see that you can't go, " said he; "but I will see to it thatyou don't go. Mr. Cronk, I shall have to ask you to leave my house. "

"I don't go one step, " growled Lon, "till I get them kids! Where'sFlukey?" He made a move toward the door; but Horace thrust his big formin front of him. 

"The boy shall not know that you are here, " said he. "I shall keep itfrom him because he's ill, and because a great worry like this mightseriously harm him. It might even kill him. "

Lon's temper raced away with his judgment. 

"What do I care if he dies or not? I'm goin' to have him, dead oralive!"

Shellington noted the hatred and menace in the other's tones, and hesmiled in triumph. 

"It's about as I thought, Mr. Cronk. You care no more for these childrenthan if they were animals. That statement you just made will go againstyou at the proper time, all right. Please go now, and remember what I'vesaid, that you have the law. And remember another thing: if you dofight, I shall bring everything I can find against you, if I have to askthe aid of Governor Vandecar. I see no other course open to you. Good-day, Sir. "

Cronk glared about until his gaze rested upon the two girls. His eyespierced into the soul of Fledra. She shuddered and drew closer to MissShellington. The squatter walked toward the door, and once more lookedback, an evil expression crossing his face and settling in deep linesabout his mouth. 

"Ye remember what I told ye, Flea, the last time I seed ye! I meant whatI said then, and I say it over again!"

The emphasis upon the words struck terror to Fledra's sensibilities. But, with new courage in her eyes, she advanced a step, and, raising aset face, replied:

"Ye can't have us, Pappy Lon--you can't! I'll take care of Flukey, andMr. Shellington'll take care--of--me. "

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Horace set his teeth firmly as he closed the door, upon Cronk. Throughthe door window he saw the squatter take his lumbering way down thesteps, and noticed that the man paused and looked back at the house. Theheavy face was black with baffled rage, and Lon raised his fist andshook it threateningly. If Horace had been determined in the firstinstant that the squatter should not get possession of the twins, he wasnow many times more resolute to keep to his decision. For his life, hecould not imagine Lon Cronk the father of his young charges. 

He returned to the drawing-room, and found Ann and Fledra stilltogether, the girl's face hidden in Miss Shellington's lap. 

"Horace, " cried Ann, "there can't be any way in which he can take them, can there? He didn't tell you how he found out they were here, did he?"

"No, I forgot to ask him, and it doesn't matter about that. Our onlytask now will be to keep them from him. Fledra, when you have finishedtalking with Ann, will you come to me?"

Fledra raised her head. Something in Horace's eyes frightened her. Shehad never seen him so pale, nor had his lips ever been so set and white. 

Ann rose quickly. Of late Horace's actions had aroused her suspicions. She was now fully convinced that Everett had been right. Moreover, shehad come to feel that she would willingly overlook Fledra's birth, ifher brother's intentions were serious. 

"Go to him now, and trust--have faith that you will not have to goaway!"

Fledra kissed Ann's hands and tremblingly followed Shellington into hisstudy. 

She sat down without waiting for an invitation; for her legs seemed tooweak to hold her. Her attitude was attentive, and her poise wasgraceful. For some minutes Horace arranged the papers on his desk, whileFledra peeped at him from under her lashes. He looked even sterner thanwhen he had ordered Lon to leave the house, and his silence terrifiedher more than if he had scolded her. At last he turned quickly. 

"Fledra, I've asked you to come here, because I can't stand our troublesany longer. I believe in my soul that you love me; for you have told meso, and--and have given me every reason to hope it. We are facing a newdanger, both for you and for Floyd, and I am sure you want to help meall you can. " He paused a moment, and went on, "Your suffering is overas far as your own people are concerned. There is no law that can forcea child as old as you are to return to such a hateful place, and I shalltake it upon myself to see that neither you nor your brother is forcedto leave here. "

Fledra uttered a cry and half-rose to her feet; but, as Horace continuedspeaking, she sank down. 

"I think it probable that we shall have to go to law, for Mr. Cronklooks like a very determined man; but he'll find that I will fight hisclaim every inch of the way. " Shellington bent toward her and rested ahand on the papers he had been sorting. "I'm very glad you didn't go toschool today, and you must not go again until it is over. This man maytry to kidnap you. " He found it impossible to call Lon her father. 

Fledra reached out and grasped his hands. At her touch, Horace flushedto the roots of his hair. Loosening his own fingers, he took hers intohis. Finally he drew her slowly round the corner of the desk, close intohis arms. 

"Fledra, for God's sake, tell me what has made you so unhappy! Will you, child? Isn't it something that I ought to know? Poor little girly, don'tcry that way! It breaks my heart to hear you!"

There was inexplicable weariness on the fair young face. 

"I want to stay here, " moaned Flea; "but what I have that hurts me ishere. " She drew his fingers close over her heart. "It isn't anythinganybody can help--just yet. "

"I could help you, Fledra, " Horace insisted. "Every man has the powerto help the woman he loves, and you are a woman, Fledra. "

"I want to be your woman. "

Young as she was, Fledra was an enigma to him. There was but one way tomake her his woman, --his wife, --that was to force her confidence, and, once obtained, keep it. But his longing to caress her was stronger thanhis desire to conquer her, --the warmth and softness of her lips he wouldnot exchange for the world's wealth!

"Sweetheart, Sweetheart!" he said, reddening. "I'm sorry that I spoke asI did last night, --I was angry, --but I've had such awful moods lately!Sometimes I've felt as if I could whip you to make you tell me!"

A thrill ran over Fledra from head to foot. 

"Beat me--will you beat me?" she murmured, drawing his hand across hermoist lips. "I'd love to have you beat me! Pappy Lon always said that awoman needed beatin' to make her stand around. Then, when I saw you, Ithought as how princes never beat their women; but now I know you haveto. "

If the young face had been less earnest, the gray eyes less entreating, Horace would have laughed despite his anger. 

"Of course, I shan't whip you, child, " he said; "only I want you toprove your love for me by trusting me. You're a woman, Fledra. It wouldbe an outrage to punish you that way. Then, too, I love you too well tohurt you. "

She watched him for one tense moment. She was quivering under his firmgrasp like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes were entreating him to trusther, to take her, regardless of her seeming stubbornness. 

"Fledra, " he whispered, "if the time ever comes that you can, will youtell me all about it?"

"Yes. "

"And you'll not lie again?"

"I've never lied to you!" came sullenly. 

"Never, Fledra?"

"Never!"

"And you won't tell another untruth to Ann, either--- not even once?"

Fledra's mind flashed to Everett. She might have to lie to keep Ann'shappiness for her. She slowly drew her hand away, and turned fretfullywith a hatred against Brimbecomb for bringing all this misery upon them. 

"I'm not going to promise you that I won't lie to Sister Ann; but I'lltell you the truth, always--always--"

Because he did not understand a woman's heart, Horace opened the door, white and angered. 

"It is beyond my comprehension that you should treat a woman as you havemy sister. You take advantage of her generosity, and expect me to upholdyou in it!"

There was a catch of genuine sorrow in his voice. Slowly Fledra lookedback over her shoulder at him. 

"You've promised me that you'd never tell anybody what I told you. "

Horace supplemented his last rebuke with:

"Nor will I! But I insist that you come to me the next time you aretempted to lie. Do you hear, Fledra?"

"Yes, " she answered. 

Suddenly she began to sob wildly, and in another instant fled down thehall. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Not more than two weeks after Lon had demanded the twins from Horace, Everett Brimbecomb sat in his office, brooding over the shadow that hadso suddenly darkened his life. The dream he had dreamed of a woman hecould call Mother, of some man--his father--of whom he had striven to beworthy, had dissolved into a specter with a shriveled face and shaggyhair, into a woman whom he had left in the cemetery to die. Although hewas secure in the thought that he would not be connected with thetragedy, he shuddered every time he thought of her and of the comingspring, when the body would be discovered. He did not repent the crimehe had committed; but the fear that the secret of his birth would bebrought to life tortured him night and day. He remembered that Scraggyhad said his father wanted him; that she had come to Tarrytown to takehim back. Did his father know who and where he was? If so, eventualdiscovery was inevitable. 

Everett's passion for Fledra only heightened his misery, and the girl'sface haunted him continually. In his imagination he compared her withAnn, and the younger girl stood out in radiant contrast. He had dailyfostered his jealous hatred for Horace, and, because of her allegianceto her brother, he had come to loathe Ann, although he was more thanever determined to marry her. The home in which he had been rearedrepelled him, and he could now live only for the fame that would risefrom his talent and work, and for the pleasures that come to thosewithout heart or conscience. Almost the entire morning had beenconsumed by these thoughts, when two men were ushered in to him. 

"I'm Lon Cronk, " said the taller of the two, "and this be Lem Crabbe, and we hear that ye're a good lawyer. "

Everett rose frowningly. 

"I am a lawyer, " said he; "but I choose my clients. I don't takecases--"

"We'll pay ye well, " interrupted Lon, "if it's money ye want. Ye canhave as much as that Mr. Shellin'ton--"

Everett dropped back again into his chair. The mention of Horace's namesilenced him. He motioned for the men to be seated, without taking hiseyes from Lem. The scowman's clothes were in shreds, and, as he liftedhis right arm, Brimbecomb saw the chapped red flesh, strapped to therusted iron hook. Although Lem had not spoken, the young lawyer notedthe silent convulsions going on in the dark, full throat, the unceasingmovements of the goiter. 

"State your case to me, then, " said he tersely. 

Lon Cronk settled back and began to speak. 

"There's a man here in this town by the name of Shellington. He's alawyer, too, and he's got my kids, and I want 'em. That's my case, Mister. "

Brimbecomb's heart began to beat tumultuously. Chance was giving him alead he could not have won of his own efforts, and he smiled, turning onCronk more cordially. 

"Have you demanded your children of Mr. Shellington?" he asked. 

"Yep. "

Everett bent over eagerly. 

"What did he say to you?"

"He says as how I could go to the devil, and that I could git the lawafter him if I wanted 'em. Can I get 'em, Mister?"

The lawyer straightened up, and for many moments was deep in thoughtbefore answering Lon. The chance of which he could never have dreamedhad come to him. This visit laid open a way for him to tear Fledra fromHorace; in fact, he could now legally take her from him with nopossibility of public discredit to himself. He narrowly observed the menbefore him, and knew that he should later be able to force them to do ashe wished. He forgot his foster father and mother--aye, forgot evenAnn--as all that was black in his nature inflamed his desire for theebony-haired girl. 

During several minutes he rapidly planned how he could bring the affairto a favorable climax with the least possible danger. But, whether byfair means or by foul, he resolved that Fledra should become his. 

Presently, as if to gain time, he asked:

"Do you want them both?"

"Yep. "

"The boy is ill, I hear, " he said. 

"That don't make no difference, " cried Lon. "I want him jest the same. Can ye get 'em fer me, Mister?"

"I think so, " replied Everett; "and, if I take the case, I shall have toask you to keep out of it entirely, until I'm ready for you. We shallprobably have to go into court. "

"Yep, ye'll have to bring it into court, all right, I know ye will. Howmuch money do ye want now?"

"Fifty dollars, " replied Everett; "and it will be more if I have a suit, and still more if I win. Come here again next week Monday, and I'll laymy plans before you. "

Lon clapped his shabby cap upon his head, and, with a surlyleave-taking, moved to go. Lem lagged behind; but a glance at thelawyer's forbidding face sent him shuffling after the squatter. 

 * * * * *

Long after they were gone Everett sat planning a future course. He feltsure that Horace would not allow the children to be taken from himwithout a fight; he knew there were special statutes governing thesethings, and took down a large book and began to read. 

Much to his satisfaction, Brimbecomb found a letter from Mr. And Mrs. Brimbecomb awaiting him at home that evening. In it his foster motherinformed him that they had decided to return to Tarrytown immediatelyand make ready for a trip abroad, where they hoped that Mr. Brimbecombwould recover his health. In a postscript from the noted lawyer, Everettread:

 I am glad that you are doing well, dear boy, and when my doctor said that I must have a complete rest I knew that I could leave you in charge of the office and go away satisfied. 

There followed a few personalities, and after finishing the reader threwit down with a smile. He had hesitated a moment over the thought thathis father would have a decided objection to the Cronk case. But hisdesire to work against Horace had overcome his irresolution. Now his waywas clear! The sooner Mr. And Mrs. Brimbecomb were away, the betterpleased he would be. 

 * * * * *

Floyd was suddenly taken worse. 

"I think, if you were to come and speak with him, he might feel better, "said Ann to Horace. "He wants to see you. Fledra is with him. "

Floyd was quiet now, his large eyes closed with quivering pain. 

"Floyd!" murmured Horace, touching the lad gently. 

The lids lifted, and he put up his hand. 

"I'm glad ye come, Brother Horace, " he said in a whisper. "I've beenwantin' to talk to ye. Will ye take Flea out, Sister Ann?"

Both girls left the room, as Horace drew a chair to the bed. 

"I ain't goin' to get well, " said Flukey slowly. "I know the doctorthinks so, too, 'cause he said there was somethin' the matter with myheart. And I have to go and leave Flea. "

Shellington took the thin, white hand in his. 

"You must not become downhearted, boy; that's not the way to get well. And you're certainly better than when you came, in spite of this littlesetback. "

Floyd closed his eyes, and Horace saw silent tears rolling down theboy's cheeks. The young man bent over him. 

"Floyd, are you worrying about your sister?"

Flukey nodded an affirmative. 

"Why?"

"Because she ain't the same as she was. And she ain't happy any more, and I can't make her tell me. Have ye been ugly to her--have ye?"

Horace racked his mind for a truthful answer. Had he been unfair toFledra?

"Floyd, " he said softly, "your sister and I have had some words; but weshall soon understand each other--I know we shall!"

"What did ye say to Flea?"

"I can't tell you, Floyd, because I promised her I would not. "

The boy writhed under the warm blankets. 

"She's always makin' folks promise not to tell things, " he moaned. "It'sbecause you're mad at her, that's what makes her cry so, and I can't doanything for her. Can't you, Brother Horace?"

"She won't let me, Floyd. "

"Did ye ask her?"

"Many times. "

"Would she let ye if I asked her?"

"No, Floyd, you must not! I promised her that I would not speak with youabout her unhappiness. " Horace ejaculated his reply so emphatically thatFloyd looked at him curiously. 

"But I can't die and leave her that way, and I'm a goin' soon. Sometimesmy heart jest stands still, and won't start again till I lose all mybreath. A feller can't live that way, can he, Brother Horace?"

"It will pass off; of course, it will--it must!" Horace looked into theworn, suffering young face, and a resolution took possession of him. 

"Floyd, " he said huskily, "Floyd, if I tell you something, will you keepit from my sister and yours?"

"Yes, " murmured Flukey. 

"I love Fledra, and want to make her my wife. Does that help you any, toknow that I shall always watch her and care for her?"

Flukey searched the earnest face bent over him. 

"Ye love her?"

"Very much, very much indeed. But she is young yet--only a little girl. "

"Did ye tell her that ye loved her?"

"Yes. "

"Did she say she loved you?"

"Yes. "

Flukey groaned. 

"Then it's something else than that, because I've known for a long timethat Flea loved ye. What's the matter? What's the matter with ye both?"

"Floyd, when I tell you that I do not know, " answered Horace, "will youbelieve me?"

"Did ye want her to tell ye somethin'--something that'll keep ye fromtakin' her now?" Horace's silence drew an outpouring from Flukey. "And Isuppose she said she wouldn't--and ye won't take her unless she tellsye. Then ye'll never get her; for, when Flea says she won't, she won't, if she dies for it! Ain't ye lovin' her well enough to take her, anyway?"

Horace answered warmly, "Yes, of course, I am!"

 * * * * *

By the dawn of day Floyd had become so much worse that a trained nursewas placed at his side, and the physician's verdict, that the boy mightdie at any moment, overshadowed the threats of the squatter father. 

 * * * * *

Lon Cronk had come alone to Everett's office on the hour set. Brimbecombwondered vaguely where the other man was, and what was his concern inthe affair. 

After greeting Lon coldly, the young lawyer said:

"I should like to know about your life, Mr. Cronk, how long yourchildren have been away from you, and all about it. "

"They've been gone since September, " replied Lon. "They runned away fromhum, and I ain't seed 'em till I found out that they was atShellington's. "

"And how did you discover them?"

"Saw Flea goin' up the steps, " lied Cronk. "I knowed her the minute Isee her, in spite of her pretty clothes. "

"Then you applied to Mr. Shellington for them?"

"Yep. "

"And he refused to deliver them up?"

"Yep--damn him! But I'll take 'em, anyway. "

"Don't say that outside my office, " warned Everett. "The law does notwant to be threatened. "

Lon remained silent. 

"We'll have to deal with Mr. Shellington very carefully, " cautioned thelawyer; "for he is proud and stubborn, and has a great liking for yourchildren. In fact, I think he is quite in love with the girl. "

Lon started to his feet, his swart face paling. 

"He won't git her!" he muttered. "I've got plans for that gal, and Iain't goin' have no young buck kickin' 'em over, I kin tell ye that!"

Brimbecomb's words put a new light upon the matter. That Flea would beprotected by the young millionaire Lon knew; but that the young manthought of marrying her had never come into his mind. 

"I don't believe as how he'd marry a squatter girl, " he said presently. "He won't, if I get her once to Ithaca!"

The mention of Brimbecomb's college town and birthplace brought a newtrain of thought to the lawyer. 

"Have you lived in Ithaca many years?" he demanded. 

"Yep. "

"The first thing I shall do, " said the attorney deliberately, "is tomake a formal demand upon Mr. Shellington in your name, and get hisanswer. Please remain in town where I can see you, and if anything comesup I shall write you. "

Lon gave him the address of a man near the river, and Everett allowedhis client to go. Some force within him had almost impelled him to askthe squatter concerning Screech Owl, and he breathed more freely when hethought that he had not given way to the temptation to learn somethingabout his own people. 

 * * * * *

At eight o'clock that evening Everett met Mr. And Mrs. Brimbecomb at thestation. He could not comprehend the feeling that his foster parents hadbecome strangers to him. He kissed his mother, shook hands with Mr. Brimbecomb, and followed them into the carriage. 

He went to bed content with the knowledge that their steamer would sailtwo days later, and that for six months he would be alone. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"I can't understand why Horace wants to keep those childrenindefinitely, " said Governor Vandecar to his wife one evening. "It seemstheir own father has turned up and asked for them. "

"Is Horace going to let him have them?"

"Not without a fight, I fear. He talked to me about it, and seemedperfectly decided to keep them. I told him to take no steps until paperswere served upon him. "

"Can they keep them, Floyd?"

Mrs. Vandecar had become suddenly interested in Fledra and Floyd. 

"I'm sure I don't know, " replied the governor. "Such things have to bethreshed out in court, although much will depend upon what theyoungsters wish to do. I fear, though, that Ann and Horace are makinguseless trouble for themselves. "

"What process will the father have to take to get them?"

"Have _habeas corpus_ papers issued. It will be a nuisance; but I didnot try to change his mind, because he was so earnest about it. "

"So is Ann, " replied Mrs. Vandecar, "and then, Dear, I always thinktheir kindness to those poor little children might make the little dearsuseful in life sometime. Mildred says they are very pretty and sweet. "

"Well, as I said before, it's strange that such a case should be here inthis peaceful little town, and I have promised Horace to advise him allI can, although I am too busy to take any active part in it. "

"Oh, do everything you ought to, Floyd, if you discover that they havereally been abused. It might be that they would be really harmed if theywere taken back to their home. Did Horace tell you where they lived?"

"Yes, near Ithaca somewhere. I think he said they had a shanty on CayugaLake. "

"One of the squatters?"

"Yes. "

"I remember very well, " remarked Mrs. Vandecar after a moment's thought, "when I went to Ithaca with Ann Shellington, and Horace and Everett weregraduated from the university, that we went up the lake in Brimbecomb'syacht. The boys called our attention to numbers of huts on the westshore, near the head of Cayuga. I suppose it must be one of those placesthe children left. "

"I presume so, " replied the governor. 

"Ann telephoned over that the boy was ill with a rheumatic heart. Sheseemed quite alarmed over it. "

"He probably won't get well, if that's the case, " murmured Vandecar. "It's a pernicious thing when it attacks the heart. Wasn't it ratherstrange that Ann and Horace should have used our names for them, Fledra?"

"You remember Ann asked me if I cared. She said that when they came theyhad some strange nicknames, and that they wanted to make them forgetabout their former lives, and it really pleased the poor little thingsto have our names. I don't mind; do you, Floyd?"

"No, " was the answer. "I only wish--" He stopped quickly and turned tohis wife. 

Her eyes were filled with tears. Floyd Vandecar's wish had been her own, that she knew. 

"I wish you had a son, too, Floyd dear!" she sobbed. "Oh, my babies, mypoor, pretty little babies!"

"Don't Fledra, don't!" pleaded her husband. "It was God's will, and wemust bow to it. "

"It's so hard, though, Floyd, so awfully hard, and the days have been solong! Floyd, do you ever wonder and wonder where they are?"

The man shook his shoulders sharply. 

"Do I ever wonder, Fledra? My hair is whitened, my life shortened, andmany of my efforts of no avail, because of my sorrow and yours. If thedays have been long to you, they have been longer to me; if your hearthas been torn over their disappearance, mine has been doubly hurt, because--because you have depended upon me to return them to you, and Ihave not been able to. "

He spoke drearily, shading his face with his hand. 

"Floyd, dear Floyd, I'm not blaming you. I realize that if it had beenpossible you would have given me back my babies, and you must not saythat your efforts have been of no avail. Why, dear husband, the papersare full of your great, strong doings. I'm immensely proud of you. " Shehad leaned over him; but the despondent man did not take the hand fromhis eyes. 

"Of all the strange cases, Fledra, ours is the strangest. You rememberhow I turned the state almost upside down to find those children. Yet, with all the power I could bring to bear, I made no headway. "

"I did not realize that you felt it so deeply, " whispered the wife. "I've been so selfish--forgive me! We'll try to be as happy as possible, and we have Mildred--"

"If we had a dozen children, " replied the governor sadly, "our firstbabies would always have their places in our hearts. "

"True, " murmured the mother. "How true that is, Floyd! There is never aday but I feel the touch of their fingers, remember their sweet babyways. And always, when I look at you, I think of them. They were so liketheir father. "

Lon Cronk and Lem Crabbe had arranged between them that the scowmanshould return to Ithaca for some days, and so the big thief was alonenear the Hudson, in a shanty that had been given over to him by a canalfriend to use when he wished. When Lon decided to rob HoraceShellington, he had known that there would have to be some place to takethe things thus obtained, and had secured the hut for the purpose. Itwas at this address that Everett came to him, upon his return from NewYork. 

Lon admitted the lawyer, who found the hut reeking with the rank smokefrom a short pipe that Cronk held in his hand. 

"Have ye got the kids?" the squatter questioned. 

Everett catechized the heavy face with a smile. 

"Did you think for a moment it was possible to obtain them so quickly?"

"I hain't had no way of knowin', " grunted Lon, "and I'm in a hurry. "

He seemed changed, and looked as if he had not slept. Everett wonderedif his affection for the children had been so great that his loss ofthem had altered him thus. The lawyer did not know how Lon was torturedwhen he caressed the image of the dead woman, nor could he know theman's agony when her spirit left him suddenly. 

"You'll have to curb your haste, " said Brimbecomb, with a curl of hislip. "It takes time to set justice in motion. "

"Have ye done anything?"

"Not yet. I was forced to go to New York. "

"Hadn't ye better git a hustle on yerself?" snarled Lon. 

"Yes, I intend to begin tomorrow; that is, to take the first steps inthe matter. But I wanted to talk with you first. Are you alone?"

"Yep; there ain't nobody here. Fire ahead, and say what ye're wantin'to. "

Everett bent over and looked keenly into Lon's face; then slowly hethrew a question at the fellow:

"Are you fond of those two children, or have you other motives fortaking them from Shellington?"

Cronk made no reply, but settled back in the rickety chair and eyedEverett from head to foot. 

"Be that any of yer business?" he said at length. 

The lawyer took the repulse calmly. He had not come to fight with Lon. 

"It's my business as far as this is concerned. If you care for them, andintend to shield them after you have them--well, say from all harm--anddo your best for them, then I don't want your case. I'm willing toreturn your money. "

For a moment the elder man looked disconcerted; then he jumped to hisfeet with an oath. 

"Put her there, Mister!" said he, with an evil smile. He thrust forth agreat hand, and for an instant Everett placed his fingers within it. 

"I thought I had not guessed wrongly, " the lawyer quickly averred. "Ifthat is how you feel, I can do better work for you. "

"I see that, Mister, " muttered Lon. 

"Are those children really yours?" Everett took out a cigar and lightedit. 

"Yep, " answered Lon, dropping his gaze. 

Everett decided that the man had lied to him, and he was glad. 

"I think you said you had some plans for the girl, " he broke forthpresently. 

"Yep; but no plans be any good when she's with Shellington. "

"But after she has left him? Would you be willing to change your plansfor her?"

Cronk did not reply, but centered his gaze full upon Everett. 

"The question is, would you, for a good sum of money, be willing to giveher to me?"

"Why give her to ye, Mister--why?" His voice rose to a shout. 

"I want her, " Everett answered quietly. 

"What for?"

"I love her. "

"Ye want to marry her?" muttered Lon vindictively. 

"No, " drawled Everett; "I am going to marry Miss Shellington. "

"Good God! ye don't mean it! And yet ye take this case what's mostinterestin' to 'em? Yer gal won't like that, Mister. "

"She loves me, and when I explain that it's all under the law she'llforgive me. There's nothing quite like having a woman in love with youto get her to do what you want her to. "

"But her brother, he ain't lovin' ye that way. He won't forgive ye. "

"He doesn't cut any ice, " said Everett. "In fact, I hate him, and--"

"Be ye lovin' my Flea?" Lon's voice cracked out the question like agunshot. 

"I think so. "

"Be Flea lovin' you, or him?"

"She loves him. "

"Then it will hurt her like the devil to take her away from him, eh?"

The eagerness expressed in the squatter's tones confirmed Everett'ssuspicions. Cronk hated that boy and girl. Brimbecomb impassivelyoverlooked Floyd; but Flea he would have!

"Yes, " he said, "I think it will hurt them both. "

"How much money will ye give if I hand her over to ye?" asked Cronkpresently. 

"How much do you want?"

"Wal, Mister, it's this way: Ye remember that feller I had with met'other day?" Everett nodded. "I mean, the feller with the hook?" AgainEverett inclined his head. "I said as how he could have Flea. Ye has tobuy him off, too, and that ain't so easy as 'tis to settle withme--especially, as ye ain't goin' to marry Flea. I ain't goin' to giveher to no man what's honest--ye hear?"

"I supposed as much, " commented Everett, reddening. 

"Lem's been waitin' for Flea for over three years, and I said as howye'd have to buy him off, too. "

"That's easy. Where is he?"

"Gone to Ithaca. He's went up to bring down his scow. It's gettin' 'longto be spring, and it's easier to lug the kids back by water, and we knowthat way, and it don't cost so much. I telled him when he went away thathe could have the gal as soon as we got back to the settlement. Lemwon't reason for a little bit of money. "

"Money doesn't count in this, " assured Everett. "Now, then, if I takethis case, put it through without cost to you, and give you both a goodsum, will you give me the girl?"

"If ye promise me ye won't marry her. "

Everett laughed, his white teeth gleaming through his lips. 

"Don't let that worry you, Mr. Cronk. I have no desire to place at thehead of my home a girl like yours. I told you that I was going to marryMiss Shellington--and not even that damned brother of hers can preventit!"

For a long time after Everett had left the hut Lon sat meditating overwhat he had heard. He wondered if Everett really loved Ann, and, if hedid, how he could wish for Flea. How another woman could erase from anyman's mind the picture of a loved woman, Lon with his loyal heart couldnot understand. He sat for an hour with his head on the old woodentable, and planned what he should do with Flukey, leaving it to thebrilliant-eyed lawyer to dicker with Lem for Flea. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Horace Shellington took a long breath as he entered his office onemorning in the latter part of March. The blustering wind that had ragedall night had almost subsided, and he felt glad for Floyd's sake; for, no matter how warm they kept the little lad, the sound of the windthrough the trees and the dismal wail of the branches at night made himshiver and fret with nervous pain. Horace had scarcely seated himselfwhen Everett Brimbecomb entered the room. 

"Hello, Horace!" said the latter jovially. "I was going to come inyesterday, but was not quite ready to see you. Haven't been able to geta word with you in several days. "

Horace offered a chair, and Everett sank into it. 

"You are always so busy when I run in to see Ann, " Brimbecomb went on, "that one would think you were not an inmate of that house. "

"Yes, " said Horace, "I've been studying up on an interesting case Iexpect to handle very soon. "

Everett laughed. 

"So have I, " he said, narrowing his lids and looking at Shellington. 

"When one is connected with offices as we are, Everett, " remarked Horaceuninterestedly, "there is little time for visiting. "

"I find that, too, " replied Everett. 

During the last few weeks Horace had seen little of his sister's fiancé;in fact, since their quarrel he had drawn away from the young man as acompanion; but above everything else he desired his gentle sister to behappy, and the man before him was the only one to make her so. Hethought of this, and smiled a little more cordially as he said:

"Is there anything I can do for you, Everett?"

"Well, yes, there is, " admitted Brimbecomb. 

"I'll do anything I can, " replied Horace heartily. 

Brimbecomb hesitated before going on. Shellington looked so grave, sodignified, so much more manly than he had ever seen him, that hescarcely dared open his subject. 

"It's something that may touch you at first, Horace, " he explained;"but--"

Horace, unsuspicious, bent forward encouragingly:

"Go ahead, " he said. 

Everett flushed and looked at the floor. 

"A case has just come into our office, and, as my father is gone fromhome, I have taken it on. "

Horace listened expectantly. Everett could have struck the man in theface, he hated him so deeply. He groaned mentally as he thought ofScraggy and her wild-eyed cat and of his endeavor to close her lips asto her relation to him. It was a great fear within him that soon hisfather would appear as his mother had. The time might come when thishaughty man before him would have reason to look upon him with contempt. To make Horace understand his present power was the one thought that nowdominated him. 

With this in mind, he began to speak again:

"A man came to us with a complaint that you were keeping his childrenfrom him. "

If Horace had received the blow the other longed to give, he could nothave been more shocked. 

"I believe his name is Cronk, " went on Everett, taking a slip from hispocket; "yes, Lon Cronk. "

Horace took his paper-knife from the table and twirled it in hisfingers. His face had grown ashen white, his lips were set closely overhis teeth. 

"I have met this Cronk, " he said in a low tone. 

"So I understand. He told me that he had been at your home, and haddemanded his children, and that you had refused to give them up. "

"I did!" There was no lack of emphasis in the words. 

"And you said that he could not have them unless he went to law forthem. "

"I did!" said Horace again. 

"And he came to me. "

Horace rose to his feet, a deep frown gathering on his brow. Everettrose also, and the two men faced each other for a long moment. 

"And you took the case?" Horace got out at last. 

"Yes, I took the case, " Everett replied. 

"And yet you knew that Ann loved them?"

"I was--was sure that if you both understood--"

The speaker's hesitation brought forth an ejaculation from Shellington. 

"What are we to understand?"

"That justice must be done the father, " responded Everett quickly. 

Horace squared his jaw and snapped out:

"Do I understand that, in spite of the near relationship of our family, you are willing to deal a blow to my sister and me that, if it falls, will be almost unbearable? You intend to fight with this squatter forhis children?"

"I don't intend to fight, Horace, if you're willing to give them to me. I had much rather have our present relations go on as they are, withouta breach in them. I think, if you and Ann talk it over, you will seethat by giving the boy and girl into my hands--"

Horace came a step nearer, with darkening brow:

"You can go straight to hell!" he said, so fiercely that Everett startedback. "And the sooner you go, the better I shall be pleased, " his facereddened as he finished, "and so will Ann!"

"You're speaking for someone who has not given you authority, " Everettsneered. "Your sister will give me at least one of those children--Iimagine, the girl. I think the father is more particular about havingher. "

"I should think he would be, and you may take him this message from me:that, if he sneaks about my house at any time of day or night, I'll havehim shot like a dog, for every man can protect his own; and if you--"

Everett, seeing his chance, broke in:

"He would be protecting his own, if he came to your home, for his ownare there; and we are going to have those children before another monthgoes by!"

"Try it, and perhaps I may bring to your mind what you once said to meabout that girl, " muttered Horace, with set teeth. "Your errand beingfinished, Mr. Brimbecomb, you may go!"

Everett had received the worst of the encounter. He had expected thatHorace would consider Fledra's and Floyd's case in a gentler way, wouldprobably compromise for Ann's sake. He went out not a little disturbed. 

 * * * * *

Horace waited for a few moments after Brimbecomb left him before he tookhis hat and coat and went home. Ann was surprised to see him, and moresurprised when he drew her into the drawing-room, where he mysteriouslyclosed the door. 

"Ann, " he said solemnly, "I believe the turning point in your life hascome. And I want you to judge for yourself and take your own standwithout thinking of my happiness or comfort. "

The young woman lifted startled eyes and searched his face. 

"What is it, Horace--that squatter again? Has he made a move againstus?"

Horace bent over and took her hands in his. 

"He has not only made a move against us, as far as the children areconcerned, but he has used an instrument you would never have dreamedof. " Seeing his sister did not reply, he went on, "Just what legalprocedure they will undertake I don't know; but that will come out intime. Cronk went to Everett Brimbecomb with the case, and I was notifiedthis morning by Everett to give up the children. "

"Everett!" breathed Ann, disbelieving. "My Everett?"

"Yes, your Everett, Ann. Don't, child, please don't! Ann, Ann, listen tome!... Yes, sit down.... Now wait!"

He held her closely in his arms until the storm of sobs had passed, andthen placed a pillow under her head and went on gravely:

"Ann, I have come to this conclusion: you love Everett dearly, and Icannot understand his actions; but I'm not going to intrude upon youraffection for him, nor his for you. I'm going to ask you not to takesides with either of us. I'm a lawyer, and so is he. Do you understand, Ann?"

Fearfully she clutched his fingers. 

"But Fledra and Floyd--I can't let them go back, I can't! I can't!"

"They're not going back, " said Horace firmly. "Mind you, Ann, even torenew my friendship with Brimbecomb, I shouldn't give them up. "

"Renew your friendship!" gasped Ann. "Oh, have you quarreled with him, Horace?"

"Yes, and told him to leave my office. "

Ann sobbed again. 

"What a fearful tragedy is hanging over us!" she cried. 

"It is worse than I imagined it could be, " Horace declared; "much worse, for I never thought that the squatter could get a reputable firm torepresent him. And as for Everett--well, he never entered my mind. Itold him that he could not take those children, and that he might--"

He remembered plainly what he had said, but did not communicate it tohis sister. She was so frail, so gently modest, that an angry man'slanguage would hurt her. 

"I told him, " ended Horace, "to do whatever he thought best, and that, if Cronk came here again, I should shoot him down like a dog. I think weought to tell Fledra, and then, too, I desire to speak to her ofsomething else. Can you bring her to me, Ann, without frighteningFloyd?"

 * * * * *

It did not need Ann's quiet plucking at her sleeve to tell Fledra thatthe blow had fallen. She had expected it day after day; until now, whenshe faced Horace and looked into his tense face, she felt that her wholehope had gone. 

Ann tiptoed out before her brother opened his lips. 

For a moment the harassed man knew not what to say to the silent, trembling girl. 

"Fledra, " he began, "the first move has been made in your case by yourfather. "

"Must we go?" burst from the quivering lips. 

"No, no: not if you have told me the truth about your past life--I meanabout your father being cruel to you. "

The sensitive face gathered a deep flush:

"I've never lied to you, Brother Horace, " she replied gently. 

"If I could believe you, child, if I could place absolute confidence inyour word, I should have courage to go into the struggle without losinghope. "

"What's Pappy Lon done?"

"He has employed Everett Brimbecomb to take you back to Ithaca. "

Fledra shrank back as if he had struck her. Swiftly into her mind camethe smiling, handsome face of the lawyer whom Ann loved. His brillianteyes seared her soul like fire. In all her life, even when facing LemCrabbe, she had never felt as she did now. She saw Floyd fading into thegraveyard beyond, while she was being torn from the only haven of restshe had ever known. Lem Crabbe could not have taken her; but EverettBrimbecomb could! She felt again his burning kisses, the clasp of hisstrong arms, and her own disgust. He seemed a giant of strength, andHorace's white face and set lips aggravated her fear. Fledra's desirefor comfort had never been so great as the desire she had at this momentto open her tired heart to Horace and reveal to him Everett's perfidy. 

"Did you tell Sister Ann about Mr. Brimbecomb?"

She stumbled over the name. 

"Yes. "

"What did she say?"

"My sister loves him--you know that. She is heartbroken that he shouldhave accepted this case. We must make it as easy as we can for her, dearchild. "

The girl saw Horace's lips twitch as he spoke, and thought of the lovehe had for his sister, and her desire to tell him what she knew diedimmediately. 

"Do you want me to go with Pappy Lon and not make any trouble for her?"she whispered. 

"No, no, not that! You can't go, Fledra, and they can't take you, if--you have told me the truth about the man your father wanted to giveyou to. "

"Floyd and I told the truth, " she said seriously, lifting her eyes tohis face; "but for Sister Ann I'd go away with Pappy Lon, and with Lem, if you'd take care of Fluke till he--"

"Don't, Fledra, don't!" groaned Horace. "It would tear me to pieces togive you up. But--but you couldn't relieve my mind, Dear, could you?"

Fledra knew what he meant, and shook her head. 

"No, not now, " she replied. 

If it troubled Ann to have Everett take part in their going back to thesquatter country, how much worse she would feel if she knew what hereally had done! Horace's appeal to shield Ann from overmuch burdenstrengthened Fledra's courage. 

"Can you keep us?" she asked, after a moment's thought. 

"I am going to try. "

"If you love me well, Brother Horace, " said Fledra, "won't you believethat I'd do anything for Sister Ann and you?"

He nodded his head; but did not speak. 

 * * * * *

When he reached Ithaca, Lem Crabbe found a flood besieging the forestcity. The creeks of Cascadilla and Six Mile Gorge had overflowed theirbanks, and the lower section of the town was under water. He had comeback for the scow, and to find Scraggy. He was determined to force fromher the whereabouts of his son. He wended his way toward the hut of oneof his friends at the inlet, and hailed the boat that conveyed thesquatters to and fro in flood-time. As the boat lapped the muddy waterbreaking into the weeds and brushes, Lem saw Eli Cronk perched inanother boat, with a spear in his hand. 

"Eli!" shouted Lem. 

Eli greeted him with a wave of the pole. 

The boats neared each other, and Lem shouted that he wanted to get intoCronk's craft. 

"What ye doin'?" asked Crabbe, as the boat he had just left shot awaytoward the bridge. 

"Catching frogs, " replied Eli. "I sell a lot of 'em to the hotels, andthis flood is jest the thing to make 'em thick. " He lowered his spearand brought up a struggling frog. Throwing it into a covered box, hepeered again into the water. 

"Where's Lon?" he said, straightening again with another victim. 

"To Tarrytown. "

"What's he to Tarrytown fer?"

"He's a gittin' Flea and Flukey. That's where they runned to. "

"He ain't found 'em, has he? Truth, now!"

"Yep, truth, " answered Lem; "and he's got a fine-lookin' lawyer-pup togit 'em for him. "

As Eli again and again thrust his spear into the water, Lem told thestory of the finding of the twins. He refrained from speaking of hisexperience with Screech Owl; but said finally, as if with littleinterest:

"Ye ain't seen Scraggy, has ye?"

"Nope; and she ain't in her hut, nuther; or she wasn't awhile back, 'cause I stopped there, when I was a lookin' for Lon. "

"When did ye git back to town?"

"I dunno jest what day it were, " responded Cronk, spearing again. 

"Can I git up the tracks, Eli?" inquired Lem presently. 

"Ye'll have to wade in mud to yer knees fer a spell after ye leave theboat. "

"I can take the hill over the tracks for a way. Will ye row me up as faras ye can?"

"Yep, I'll row ye up, " replied Eli, proceeding with his work. 

 * * * * *

Late in the afternoon, Lem Crabbe, wet to his knees and covered withmud, entered the scow. He had stopped at Screechy's hut, knocked, and, having received no answer, clicked down the hill to the boat. 

He made up his mind to stay there until Scraggy came back; then he wouldgo back to Tarrytown and bring the twins to Ithaca. Every morning Lemmounted the hill, only to find that Screech Owl had not returned. Butone day, just at dusk, as he appeared before the hut, he saw theflickering of a candle. He did not wait to knock, but entered, and foundScraggy stretched out on the old bed. She looked up as if she hadexpected him, noted his dark face, and lowered her head again. 

"Black Pussy's gone, Lem. I've got a cold settin' on me here, " shewhispered, wheezing as she laid her hand on her chest. 

"I hope it'll kill ye!" grunted Lem. "What did you leave the toolhousefer, when I told ye to stay?"

"What toolhouse, Lemmy?" The dazed eyes looked up at him in surprise. 

"Don't try none of yer guff on me. I want to know who ye went to see inTarrytown, and who the man was that throwed ye over the fence, and thenlugged ye off to that vault?"

Scraggy sat up painfully. 

"I wasn't throwed over no fence. "

"Ye was, 'cause I seed the man when he done it. I wish now that I'd agone and settled with him. Who was he, Screechy?"

"I dunno, " she answered. 

Lem bent over her, his eyes blazing with wrath. 

"Ye want to git yer batty head a workin' damn quick, " he shouted, "orI'll slit yer throat with this!" The rusty hook was thrust near thethin, drawn face. 

"I can't think tonight, " muttered Screech Owl, "'cause the bats be arunnin' 'bout in my head. When I think, I'll tell ye, Lemmy. "

"Where be that boy?" demanded Lem. 

Scraggy shook her head. Every time she thought of Lem's questions, therewas an infernal tapping of unnumbered winged creatures at the walls ofher brain. 

"There ain't no boy that I knows of, " she said listlessly, sinking downagain. "And ye wouldn't slit my neck when I ain't done nothin', wouldye, Lemmy?"

"Ye has done somethin', " growled Lem. "Ye has kep' that brat from methese years past, and now he's big 'nough I'm goin' to have him! Yehear?" Every word he uttered came forth with effort. The red mark underhis chin moved relentlessly, preventing him from speaking withclearness. 

Scraggy writhed beneath the tightening grasp of the man's wet fingers. 

"I'll choke ye to death!" Lem gasped, between throaty convulsions. 

"Lemmy, Lemmy dear--"

Another twist of Lem's fingers, and the woman sank back unconscious. Lemshook her roughly. 

"Scraggy, Scraggy!" he cried wildly. "Set up! I Want to talk to ye! Setup!"

The silence in the gloomy hut, the whiteness of the seemingly deadwoman, filled Lem with superstitious dread. He grasped his lantern andran out, failing to close the door. 

The frightened man made off up the hill, and, passing through theStebbins farm by the Gothic church and dark graveyard, he tramped theTrumansburg road to Ithaca. The tracks were covered with water as theyhad been when Eli had given him the lift toward the settlement. But theflood had so receded that by drawing his trousers up over his boots Lemmanaged to get through the mud to the bridge. From there he sought thehouse of Middy Burnes, where he made an agreement with the tugman thatthe scow should be towed from Ithaca to Tarrytown. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

To usher Everett into her home with the same fond heart as hitherto wasmore than Ann could do. Dearly as she loved him, much as she desired tobe his wife, it was hard to pardon him for casting aside her interestsfor those of the dark-browed squatter. But, womanlike, she felt that shecould break down her lover's determination, and resolved that she wouldnot hesitate to open argument with him. 

Everett met her with a smile, and her lips trembled as they received hiswarm kiss. After they were seated he said:

"Horace has told you, no doubt, Ann, of the children's case. " She noddedher head sorrowfully. "Your brother seems to feel, " went on Everett, "that I should not have taken charge of it. "

"Neither should you have done so, Everett, unless you've other motivesthan we know of. "

She looked up; but lowered her eyes as Brimbecomb glanced at herfurtively. Had Fledra told her of his advances? No, or she would neverhave received his kisses. His fears were quieted by this thought, and heasked gently:

"What motives could I have other than that justice should be done thefather? I took the case, first, because it came to me; then, because Ithink the man ought to have his children. "

Miss Shellington's face darkened. 

"Oh, Everett, you can't be so hard-hearted as to want those poor littlethings misused! They have been persecuted by their own people, and youcertainly have more heart than to want that to happen again. "

"It's not a case of feeling; it's a case of justice. I know how this manhas struggled all his life to rear this boy and girl. They've had nomother, and then, as soon as they were old enough and had the chance, they ran away. "

"Because he was cruel to them!"

"I don't believe it. I've had something to do with men, and I'm assuredthat he told me the truth. I believe, as he says, that they excusedtheir leaving home by brazen lies. Have you never caught them lying toyou, Ann?"

"No, no! They've always been truthful to me. "

"And to Horace?"

"I haven't asked him. But, if they hadn't been, I am sure he would havespoken of it. Everett, let me plead with you. They have been with us along time, and Horace and I have grown used to them. They need our caremore than I can tell you. The boy is still very ill. Won't you let mylove for you plead for them, and withdraw from the case? Do, Dear, andlet me call Horace. Will you, Everett? He's so sad over it! Oh! may Icall him?" She had risen from her chair; but a negative shake of theman's head made her resume her place again, and she continued, "It willbe a dreadful thing for them, if they have to go back. Now, listen, Everett! If you will withdraw and let Horace settle it with that man, our arrangements, " her face was dyed crimson, --"I mean your plans andmine for our wedding, shall remain as they are. Otherwise--"

"Otherwise, what?" breathed Everett, bending toward her. 

"I--I shall have to postpone them. " Her voice had strengthened as shespoke, and the last statement was clear and ringing. 

"Oh, you couldn't, Ann! Because I take a perfectly legitimate case, which comes into our office, you propose to postpone our marriage?"

"But, Everett, think of what you are doing! It is as if you had taken mybrother by the throat. You were the first one to suggest that he mightlove the girl. What if he does?"

"We will not talk of Horace, please. " Everett turned from her as hespoke. "You and I are the parties interested. If you will aid me, andyou should, seeing that you love me, your brother need not beconsidered. "

Ann rose, shuddering. 

"You do not mean, Everett, that you wish to gain my consent that Fledraand Floyd should go back to Ithaca?"

Brimbecomb also rose. 

"Fledra and Floyd!" he mimicked smilingly. "What a farce it all is! Andhow foolish to give them such names! I should think the governor and hiswife would feel complimented that those kids were called for them! Theyare but paupers, after all!"

"Everett, " stammered Ann, "am I just beginning to know you? Oh, youcan't mean it! You're but jesting with me, aren't you, Dear?" Her lovefor him impelled her forward, and her slender hands fell upon hisshoulders. He slipped them off, and gathered her fingers into his. 

"Ann, " he said earnestly, "I'm not jesting, and I ask you, by your lovefor me, to aid me in this, the first thing of importance I have everasked you. "

Miss Shellington drew reluctantly away. 

"I can't, I can't! My very soul revolts at the idea. " Then, gainingstrength of voice, the girl, marble-white, exclaimed, "If you're notjesting, and are still determined to follow out your plans, " she caughther breath in a sob and whispered, "then, like my brother, I shall haveto ask you to leave, please. "

A frown darkened Everett's face, followed by an expression of ridicule. 

"Is this your love for me? You would let two strange squatter childrencome between us? Am I to understand it so?"

"You may understand this: that, after knowing that their father iswicked, that he would have sacrificed his daughter to a vile man, without marriage to lessen her suffering, after knowing that he tried tomake a thief of his noble-hearted boy, --I say, after knowing all this, if you can still insist upon helping him, then I would not dare--totrust--my life with you!"

Everett's rage blotted out all remembrance of how he left the house; butthere was a vivid picture in his mind of a woman, pale and lovely, opening the door and dismissing him coldly. He remembered also that shehad shut the door as if it were never to be opened again to him. Hisonly consolation was that before long he would be able to face FledraCronk and prove his power to her. With this thought came thesatisfaction of knowing that he would be able to wring HoraceShellington's heart. 

After closing the door upon her lover, Ann stood breathless. The lighthad suddenly gone from her sun--the whole living world seemed plungedinto darkness. Everett was gone, gone from her possibly forever. Hisface had expressed a determination that proved he would not change hismind. Why had he reasoned himself into thinking that justice could beserved in the squatter's cause? Everett must have a motive. Her judgmenttold her to accuse the man she loved; her heart demanded that she excusehim. For one instant her generous spirit balanced the squatterchildren's welfare and her own future. She had promised to protectFledra and Floyd, promised them and Horace. Only a broken prayer escapedher lips as she turned and walked quickly down the hall. She did notwait to knock, but twisted the door-handle convulsively, and appearedbefore her brother without a plea for pardon for her unannouncedentrance. 

"He's gone forever!" she said brokenly. "Oh, oh, I can't--"

She swayed forward, and suddenly a merciful oblivion rested herturbulent spirit, during which her agonized brother worked, hoping andpraying that she might soon know how he pitied and loved her. 

At length, when she opened her eyes and gazed at him, Ann murmured underher breath, with a world of pleading:

"Don't speak of him--don't! Dear heart, I can't--I can't bear it!"

It was not until long afterward that Horace Shellington heard of thescene through which she had passed. 

 * * * * *

Everett Brimbecomb's card admitted him to the governor's home. Mrs. Vandecar welcomed him with outstretched hands. 

"Strange, Everett, " said she, "but I was thinking only this afternoonthat I should ask you to dinner. I feel ashamed that I haven't before;but I've been such an invalid for a long time! You must be lonely, nowthat your father and mother are gone. "

"I've been busy. "

The other laughed understandingly. 

"Ah! I had forgotten that a young engaged man has but few free eveningson his hands. "

To this Everett did not reply. 

"How is dear Ann?" asked Mrs. Vandecar. 

"I left her quite well; but not in the best of spirits. In fact, dearlittle lady, " and he bent over the white hand he held, "I've come to aska favor of you. "

"Is it anything about Ann? I can't have matters disarranged between youtwo. I've always said you were an ideal couple. "

"Thank you, " murmured Everett. 

Her frank words somewhat shattered his courage; for he knew her to bekind-hearted. He did not expect to have her make any impression upon theShellington brother and sister; but wished her assistance as far as herhusband was concerned. 

He kept his gaze so long upon the floor that Mrs. Vandecar spoke:

"I'm glad you came to me, Everett. "

"Yes, I'm glad, too, and I need your help just now. The fact is, Ann andI have had words over a case I have taken charge of in the office. "

"How very strange!" exclaimed the woman, mystified. 

"It's no more strange to you than to me, " went on Everett, after theywere seated. "First, Horace and I quarreled, and then, thinking Annwould uphold me in my work, I went to her; getting about the samereception I had received from him. "

"I should never have believed it of either of them, " faltered Mrs. Vandecar. "But do tell me about it. "

"Horace and Ann, as you know, have a boy and a girl in their charge. "

The governor's wife sat up interestedly. 

"I have heard of them, " said she; "but have never seen them. I asked Annover the telephone one day this week, if I sent Katherine for the girl, would she allow her to come and spend an afternoon with Mildred. But shesaid that--"

"Fledra, they call her, " interrupted Brimbecomb, with a keen glance athis companion. 

"Yes, so I've heard. Ann said that this Fledra was not going out atall. "

"Do you know why?"

"Why, I supposed that it was because their father had asked for them andthey feared some foul play. "

"Foul play!" cried Brimbecomb. "Why, Mrs. Vandecar, don't you think thata father ought to have his own children?" Everett's eyes pierced hergaze until it dropped. 

"Not if he is bad, " murmured she, "and I heard he was brutal to them. "

"It is not so; of that I am sure. That is the matter I have come about. I have accepted the father's case. "

"Oh, Everett, was this necessary for you to do, as long as you knowAnn's heart is set upon keeping them?"

Everett twisted nervously. 

"She has no right to have her heart set upon them. Now, here is what Iwant you to do. Ann is wearing away her health with these scrubs ofhumanity, for which she won't even receive gratitude, and Horace lookslike a June shad. The boy has been sick constantly since he's beenthere. If there were no hospitals in the town, it might be different. Imust make a move to separate the girl I love from the burden she can'tbear. "

Everett averted his face. Until that moment this excuse had not comeinto his mind. If Mrs. Vandecar had any affection at all for Ann, thethought that the girl was making herself ill would tempt her tointerfere. 

"Everett, does Ann know why you want to take them away from her?"

"Of course not; I couldn't tell her that, nor Horace, either. They wouldhave promptly told me to attend to my own affairs; but I could come toyou. "

"I'm so glad--I'm so glad you did! And poor Ann, I wish she would allowher friends to help her! She's such a darling in her charitable work, though, isn't she?"

"I don't agree with you, " dissented Everett. 

"But you must admit, boy, that a girl who will make a hospital of herhome, who will wear out her strength for two little strangers, has theheart of Christ in her. "

"I admit her goodness, " said Everett slowly, "or I should not want herfor my wife. But you can't blame me when I say that I desire her to beherself again. "

Mrs. Vandecar rose. 

"Well, come in to dinner, and we can still talk. Mildred has gone to herfather in Albany with Katherine for a day or two, and I'm alone. "

When they were seated, Everett pressed his plea again. 

"I don't think Ann would have been so stubborn in the matter, if Horacehad not insisted upon it. And I know that you will be surprised to hearthat he is in love with the girl, a little pauper who uses bad Englishand swears like a pirate. "

Fledra Vandecar dropped her fork and started back from the table. 

"Everett, has Horace lost his mind, or what is it? What can there be intwo children--for they are very young--to have such a hold upon a manlike Horace and a woman like Ann?"

"I have asked myself that a dozen times, and more, " commented Everett. "But now you understand why I want to do something to relieve thesemisguided young people--to say nothing of my love for Ann?"

"I do understand, " replied Mrs. Vandecar, "and I can't blame you. But, really, I don't see what I can do, without incurring the enmity of bothof my friends. "

"Your husband, " breathed Everett. 

"Is pledged to Horace in this very matter, and, of course, I couldn'ttake a stand against him. Everett, why don't you drop the case and lettime take its course? I fear that you're going the wrong way. "

Brimbecomb bit his lip. He might have known that Horace would apply tothe governor; but he had hoped to steal a march upon him and to keep thestate's official from aiding him. But Everett also knew what aninfluence Mrs. Vandecar had over her husband, and now rejoined:

"I have gone too far with it; and, what's more, if I have to bear thebrunt of the thing alone, I'll free Ann from a presence that hascompletely changed her! Have you seen her lately?"

Mrs. Vandecar shook her head. 

"I haven't, " she admitted slowly. "I haven't been well enough to go out, and she hasn't been here. I have heard from her only now and then on the'phone. Poor child! I must try to get over there tomorrow. "

 * * * * *

Next day Ann met Mrs. Vandecar with open arms. 

"Oh, Fledra, " said she, "I've longed for you so many days! I doappreciate your coming!"

"I knew you would, Ann. You are the first acquaintance I have called onin weeks. But, honey girl, you don't look well. "

Ann's eyes filled with tears. Fledra Vandecar was one of the many brightrays of sunshine in her past life, when she had been happy andcontented, when Everett had been her lover, and Horace at ease. Now herlife was all chaos. Misery, fright, and a troubled heart were herconstant companions. 

Mrs. Vandecar leaned over and gently brushed back a lock of hair fromthe girl's brow. 

"Ann, dear, can't you tell me what is the matter?"

"There's so very much, it would weary you. "

"Indeed, no! Mayn't I stay with you just a little while?"

Ann checked back her emotion and rose. 

"Pardon, Dear; I didn't dream that you could. "

"Of course I can. Mildred is in Albany. How happy I should be if I couldhelp you!"

"Time only will do that, Fledra. It will take many weeks before Horaceand I are running in our old home gait. But I love to have you here, especially as Horace has gone out for a long drive. He will be away allthe afternoon. "

"That's too bad, " interjected Mrs. Vandecar. "I hoped to see him. And, Ann, I want also to see those children. "

"The girl is riding with Horace today--she gets out so little, andBrother insisted upon taking her. The boy is still very ill. "

"Is he too ill for me to see him?"

Ann hesitated. 

"Well, his heart is affected, and anything unusual throws him into a newspell. We keep all trouble from him. "

Mrs. Vandecar touched her friend gently. 

"And you've had enough of his to bear, poor Ann!"

"We don't consider it a trouble to do anything for those we love. Iwonder if you would like to peep at him--making no noise, remember! Heis sleeping under a drug. Come, Dear, and I'll look at him first. "

The governor's wife followed Ann to Floyd's door, and waited until abeckoning finger called her in. She entered the darkened chamber, andpaused a moment to get her bearings. Miss Shellington was near the bed, her eyes calling. 

"He's sound asleep, " she whispered. 

With his head thrown back a little, Floyd's face was turned toward thewall. His profile and thick black curls were sharply distinct upon thewhite pillow-slip. His broad brow was covered with beads ofperspiration, and the lips were muttering incoherent words. Mrs. Vandecar leaned far over the bed, and peered into his face. Something sotouched her in the thin, sunken cheeks, in the drawn mouth, whisperingin an unnatural sleep, that she drew back weeping. Suddenly words formedon the sleeper's lips:

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, " fell from them, "look upon--look upon--"Then the whisper trailed once more into incoherence. 

Fledra Vandecar clutched at Ann's sleeve. 

"He's praying, Ann! He's praying!" Miss Shellington bowed her head inassent. "Poor baby, poor little dear!" Mrs. Vandecar's voice was louderthan before. 

"Hush, hush!" breathed Ann. "Come away. He's so very ill!"

"Pity--pity my simplicity, " murmured Floyd again, "and Lord prepare mysoul a--place!"

Mrs. Vandecar straightened and flashed the rigid girl at her side anappealing glance. Ann touched her again, and the two women passed fromthe room, weeping. 

"How very beautiful he is!" stammered Mrs. Vandecar. "Oh, Ann, dear, can't you do something for him? Can't I? Why haven't I tried before? Youwon't be offended, will you, Ann, when I say that until this moment Ihave never approved of your having him? But I've seldom seen such aface, and he was--he was praying, poor baby! Poor, little tormented boy!I wish that he had been awake, or that his sister were here--I want tosee her, too. "

"Yes, you should see her. She is very sweet, " replied Ann so gravelythat Mrs. Vandecar wept again. 

Very soon she made ready for home, with no hint of the conversation shehad had with Everett, and no word of advice to Ann about giving up hercharges. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A letter went that night from Fledra Vandecar to her husband in Albany. It was written after the woman had paced her room for several hours ininexplicable disquietude and unrest. Puzzled, the governor read:

 "_Dearest_. --

 "I went today to see Ann Shellington, with my mind fully made up to speak to her about the boy and girl who have been with her for these last few months. Everett was here to dinner last night with me, and confided in me his trouble with Horace, which has finally culminated in a breach with Ann. It seems the difficulty arose over the case of the squatter from Ithaca who has demanded his children. 

 "Everett has taken the man's side, and until I called upon Ann I felt quite in sympathy with him. And still I cannot tell you, dearest Floyd, what changed my mind, unless it was the sight of that sick boy. He was sleeping when I went in, and was muttering over a babyish prayer, which quite touched me. I had no opportunity to talk with him, nor the girl either. She was riding with Horace, and Everett tells me that he (Horace) is quite infatuated with the child. 

 "I'm going to ask you, Floyd darling, to help Horace all you can, and if Everett comes to see you, as he said he was going to, I want you to know that it is my wish that you should keep to your policy with Ann and her brother. I cannot tell why I am writing you this, only that my heart aches for that boy, and that for years I have never felt so impelled to help a human being as I have him. 

 "I thought Everett might tell you that I was won to his way of thinking by his pleading how he wanted to remove Ann from contact with the boy and girl; so I hasten to write you. Kiss my precious Mildred for her mother, and, Floyd, dear, see to it that she doesn't stay up too late; for she is not strong. I cautioned Katherine about it; but I'm afraid she might yield to the child's entreaties. 

 "With fondest love to you, my darling, and to my baby and Katherine, I am, "Your own loving wife, "FLEDRA. "

The governor read and reread the letter, especially the part in whichhis wife implored him to aid Horace Shellington. He laid it down with asigh. He well knew that Fledra's heart was tender toward all little onessince the disappearance of her own. All hope that he would ever see histwin children had left him years before, and now, for some moments, withhis hand on the envelop, his mind wandered into hidden places, where hesaw a boy and a girl growing to manhood and womanhood, and he groaneddeeply. 

 * * * * *

Later, when Everett Brimbecomb was ushered into his office at thecapital, the governor was primed with the sympathy that he had gatheredfrom his wife's letter. 

"This is something of a surprise, my dear boy, " he said. "I did not knowyou were coming to Albany so soon. "

"I came with a purpose, " replied Everett; "for, as you know, my fatheris away, and I need your advice in something. "

Vandecar waited for his visitor to proceed. 

"Do you see any reason, " Everett stammered, "why two young lawyersshould not be friends, even if they have to take opposite sides in alawsuit?"

"No, " replied the governor slowly. 

"Then I'll lay the whole thing before you, and let you tell me what youthink of it. "

"Have a cigar while we talk, " broke in Vandecar, offering Everett hiscase. 

In silence they began to smoke, and both remained quiet until thegovernor said:

"Now, explain it to me, please. "

Everett began the story of the children's running away, as the squatterhad told it to him, and of their coming to Horace. He did not forget toadd that he believed Shellington had lied to him the night he came intothe dining-room and discovered Fledra and Floyd with the two littleanimals. When a shade passed over the governor's face, Everett quicklynoted that he had made a mistake in the drawing of conclusions. 

"Don't be too hasty, Everett, " cautioned Vandecar, shaking an ashdeliberately from his cigar. "Horace is the soul of truth. If he did nottell it to you, he had good reasons. "

Brimbecomb frowned. He could have bitten his tongue out for making thatmisstep. 

"That's so, " he admitted. "But, ever since last September, Horace, and Imight say Ann, too, have drawn more and more away from me. For my part, I see no good that can come of their relations with squatters. "

"It was the most charitable act I have ever heard of, " replied Vandecar. "But you are straying from the case. Do I understand that you have takenup the side of the father?"

"Yes. "

"And that you intend to make a move to return his children to him?"

"Yes. "

"Why?"

As Everett looked at the stern, unyielding man before him, his excuse toMrs. Vandecar seemed tame as it ran through his mind. The governor'seyes were scanning him critically, almost dazzling him with theirsteely gray. An expression in the steady gaze made him tremble; but hetook heart as he thought of the friendship between the governor and hisfoster father. 

"It's hardly fair to ask me why I took the case, which came to me in alegitimate manner, " said he. "I can see no reason why the man, althoughpoor, should not have his own children. Do you?"

It was a pointed question, and Vandecar waived it by saying:

"There are always circumstances surrounding these things, such as whenparents are cruel to their children, which might make it advisable, almost imperative, to take the youngsters away and put them withreputable people. I think Horace is of the impression that this is truein the present case. "

"Then is one man's opinion to be taken? Do you advise that?"

"No; but I do not yet understand why you should be interested againstyour friends. I should think that, rather than disagree with them, youwould wish to have nothing to do with it. "

Everett would have to use Ann again to convince the governor of hisright to act. It had been far easier to explain his interest in Cronk toMrs. Vandecar than to this quiet, powerful man opposite. Thebrown-flecked gray eyes looked unusually sober and truth-demanding. 

"I won't have them any longer with Ann than I can help, " Everett brokeforth suddenly. "She is killing herself over them. Have you ever seenthem, Mr. Vandecar?"

"No. "

"If you had, then you would agree with me. The fact is, your wife thinksthe way I do, but would not help me because you were pledged to Horace. Your influence over him is great, and I should like to keep this out ofcourt, if possible. Mrs. Vandecar was rather exercised over Ann. "

With a deliberation that baffled Everett, the governor put down hiscigar and drew a letter from his pocket. He opened it in silence andglanced at it, while Everett stared uneasily at this unusual proceeding. Presently the governor looked up casually. 

"You say that my wife is exercised over Ann?"

"So she told me. She---"

"Well, just at this time, " interjected Vandecar, "Mrs. Vandecar is verymuch in sympathy with the boy. She has seen him, since talking withyou. " Everett stood up abruptly. "She has changed her mind; so herletter tells me, Brimbecomb, " went on the elder man, "and, as I amworking with Horace, and this thing touches him so deeply, I shall haveto ask you not to come to me for advice or help. You understand, " andthe governor rose also, "that, while I have a deep feeling of interestin you and your work, I must say that I think it would be better tastefor you to withdraw while you can. It will be unpleasant all around, and, as your father is away, it is rather dangerous to connect youroffice with low people. "

 * * * * *

Everett went forth from the interview discomfited, but none the lessfirm in his evil purpose. Only a few days later, when Lem Crabbe's scowwas slowly making its way from Ithaca to Tarrytown, _habeas corpus_papers were served upon Horace Shellington to produce the twins in courtand to give reasons why they should not be given to their father. 

Horace held a consultation with Ann, and it was decided that they shouldappeal to the court for time, procuring a doctor's certificate to provethat Floyd was too ill even to know of the proceedings. This having beendone, it placed an unlooked-for stay upon Everett Brimbecomb; but hesecured a court order instructing the sheriff to guard the children atthe Shellington home until the boy was well enough to be taken out. So, a deputy was stationed in the house. 

 * * * * *

In the meantime Lon watched eagerly for the coming of Lem. When at lasthe espied the scow fastened in its accustomed place, he went down tocarry the news to the owner. After explaining the matter as far as ithad gone, he ventured:

"Lem, be ye carin' for Flea yet?"

"Why?" demanded Lem suspiciously. 

"'Cause we can make some money outen her, if ye gives up yer claim onher. "

"Ye mean to sell her?"

Lem's words sounded hoarse as he wheezed them out. 

"'Tain't sellin' her, " explained Lon. "A whollopin' good-lookin' fellerwants her, and he says he'll buy yer off and give me money fer her. Willye do it, Lem?"

"Nope, I won't! I want her myself. I been waiting long 'nough fer her. "

"But wouldn't ye ruther have a pocketful of money? I would, I bet ye!"

"Lon, be ye goin' to do me dirt?" asked Lem darkly. 

Lon straightened his shoulders. 

"Nope, I told him ye had to be buyed off, afore I could say nothin'. ButI thought ye liked money, Lem. "

"So I do; but I like Flea better. I helped ye get 'em when they werebabies, Lon, and ye said--"

Cronk flung out his arms. 

"I said as how ye wasn't to mention aloud, even to me, that the kidswasn't mine. Ye has Flea, if ye say so, and I'll tell the lawyer--"

"Be it that good-lookin' feller what ye give the fifty dollars to whatwants Flea?" Cronk nodded. "I thought ye wouldn't let me marry her, " Lemcried, "and now ye be goin'--"

Lon interrupted the scowman fiercely:

"Nuther is he goin' to marry her--ye can bet on that! No kid ofVandecar's gets a boost up from me--a boost down, more like!"

"I'll kill the feller if he touches her, " growled Lem, "and ye can makeup yer mind to that, Lon!"

Lon Cronk shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. 

"Take her if ye want her, Lem. I won't put no straw in yer way. But Inever could see what ye wanted her fer. She's a big mouth to feed, letme tell ye!"

For some moments the two men sat in the darkening scow and smoked insilence. Suddenly Lem looked up. 

"We couldn't get ahead of the nasty scamp, could we, Lon? I mean, couldwe git the money, and then keep the gal?"

"I don't want her, " growled Lon; "she couldn't stay with me no more. "

"We oughter make him pay the money, though, " Lem insisted. 

"Then, if ye has Flea, Lem, " said Lon, looking keenly at the scowman, "and ye git yer share of money, ye has to share up yer half with me. See?"

"Yep, " muttered Lem. "Will ye bring the feller down here some day, andwe'll talk it over?"

Lon acquiesced by a nod of his head, saying only, "Come on out, andlet's get a drink. "

"When's he goin' to git 'em--Flea and Flukey, I mean?"

"I dunno. The boy's too sick to come to court. He's liable to die anyminute. "

Lem started forward at the unexpected word. 

"If he croaks, be ye goin' to leave Flea there?"

"Not by a damn sight! We'll git her, and I don't care if the boy goesdead afore mornin'. I only want him to suffer, and die if he wants to. And, Lem, " Lon smiled evilly, and, looking into the swart face of hispal, said, "and I guess ye can make the gal come to yer likin'. "

Lem's throat worked visibly, his face reddened by the silent laughterthat shook him. 

"I only want the chance, " he said. "Come on and let's git a drink. "

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Everett Brimbecomb had become impatient. He missed his evenings withAnn, and was tortured with the thought that Horace was with Fledra. Every day made his hatred for his former friend more deadly, morevindictive, and he not only desired to take the squatter girl away, buthe felt impelled to separate Ann from her brother. He received a badlyspelled note from Lon with a feeling of thanksgiving. Something hadhappened to make the squatter wish to see him. So, after dinner, he tookthe direction Lon had given, and reached the scow in a heavy rain. Itwas much more to his liking that the evening should be stormy; for noperson of his own station in life would be apt to be abroad on such anight. 

As he entered the living-room of the scow, Everett bowed frigidly to LemCrabbe, and forgot to extend his hand to Lon. 

"You sent for me, " he said in a low tone, looking at the squatter. 

"Yep. I knowed ye wanted to see Lem, and I thought as how ye'd ruthercome here than have him come along to yer office. Ain't that right?"

"I believe I told you so, " responded Everett coldly, as he took hisplace in a rickety chair. 

"Ye said, didn't ye, Mister, that ye wanted the handlin' of Flea afterwe took her away from that meddlin' millionaire?"

"Yes. "

"And I telled ye that ye had to make a bargain with Lem, 'cause he hadfirst right to her. What ye willin' to give?"

"How much money do you want to withdraw your claim from the girl?"

"I ain't thought 'bout no price, " replied Lem covertly. 

"Then think and listen to me. I have an idea in my mind that we can takethe girl away from that house, if not tomorrow, at least in a few days. "

Lem's eyes glistened, and Lon placed his clay pipe carefully upon thetable. 

"Lip it out, then, Mister, " said the latter; "and, if me and Lem'sagreein' with ye, then we'll help ye. "

Everett moved uneasily in the creaking chair. He did not desire todicker with these ruffians; but it was necessary, if he wished to carryout his plans concerning Fledra. 

"The boy is likely to die any moment. The girl is the only one who canhelp you, Mr. Cronk. " Everett had meaning in his voice, and his wordsmade Lem swallow hard. 

"I was a thinkin' that myself, " ruminated Lon. 

"The girl idolizes her brother and Mr. Shellington. If you could makeher understand that they would otherwise both be killed through yourinstrumentality, she would leave the house of her own free will, I'msure. "

Lon, grimacing with delight, bounded up and faced Lem. 

"That be so! That comes of gittin' a lawyer what's got stuff in hishead, ye see, Lem. I told ye that when ye said as how we could get themkids without spendin' no money. "

"You will have to use great care, both of you, " Everett urged, "and itonly means for you to take the girl, as you first planned, to Ithaca;and I will come after her. You will both have your money, and ourbusiness together will be at an end. " Lem laughed, but with no sound. "Just how to get this girl is more than I have figured out, " Everettcontinued; "but it might be well for me to try and get a letter to her. I have been a steady visitor at Shellington's home for many years. Weare hardly upon good terms now; but I could manage it, if one of you menwould write it. Make the letter strong, and you will gain your ends. Youmay bring it to my office tomorrow, Mr. Cronk. " He rose, buttoned up hisraincoat, and went out, leaving two gaping men looking after him. 

 * * * * *

Since the papers had been served upon him, Horace had had no peace ofmind. The solemn deputy loitering about the home menaced the wholefuture. It sickened him when he forced his imagination to dwell uponFledra's future, if she were dragged back to Ithaca, and he had ratherplace Floyd in his grave than give him into the hands of the squatter. Suddenly, one morning, he took a great resolution, and no sooner had hemade up his mind to take the one step that would change his whole lifethan he called Ann to tell her about it. 

"I'm going to marry Fledra, " he said, catching his breath. 

Ann dropped her hands fearfully; but intense interest gathered on herface. 

"I can save her no other way, " he went on, almost in excuse, noting herglance. "And you must have seen, Ann, dear, that I love the child. Sitdown here and let me tell you about it. "

He began at the beginning, telling her of his early growing love, of hisdesire to make the squatter child his wife. Ann allowed him to narratehis story impulsively, without interruption. 

Then she said gently:

"Horace, dear, have you told her that you love her?"

"Yes; but I am going to tell her again this morning. "

"Ask her now, " suggested Ann eagerly, and she rose. 

Horace found Fledra with Floyd, and she lifted her eyes confidingly tohis with a smile. For a long time he had been so tender, so loving, thatthe specter bred and fostered by Everett Brimbecomb's kisses had nearlyvanished. 

"Floyd is so much better this morning!" she said. Her words were wellchosen, and she pronounced her brother's new name carefully. 

Floyd held out his hand and raised himself slowly up. 

"Look, Brother Horace!" he cried eagerly. "Look--just this morning I'vebeen able to stand up! Sister Ann says in a few days I can walk. "

Horace held the thin, white fingers in his for an instant. 

"So you will, boy. It won't be long before you can get out. "

The words startled Fledra. Not until the trouble of Lon's coming had shewished that Floyd might linger in the sickroom. The man outside, watching every movement in the house, frightened her. She knew that whenher brother was well enough he and she would be called away for thecourt's decision as to their future. 

"Floyd, will you spare your sister just a few moments? I want to talkwith her. "

"Course I will, Brother Horace. Scoot along, Fledra!"

"This way, child, " whispered Horace. "I've something--oh, such a dearsomething!--to say to you. "

They quietly passed the deputy, who only raised his eyes, smiled atFledra, and dropped his gaze again to his paper. When Horace's door wasclosed, Horace took Fledra into his embrace and kissed her again andagain. She loved the warmth of his arms, and the delight of his kissescaused her to rest unresisting until he chose to speak. 

"Fledra, dear, will you marry me--immediately?"

His question brought her to rigidity. 

"You mean--"

"I mean that all our troubles are going away. "

Fledra drew slowly from him. 

"How can our troubles go away?" she asked. 

"By your consenting. "

"I told you once, and more than once, that I couldn't tell you. Won'tyou ever understand?"

But Horace did not loosen his hold upon her. He drew the dark headagainst him tenderly. 

"You misunderstood, Fledra. I am going to trust you in everything. I amgoing to put all my faith in you, and to save you and your brother froma fearful life. I must make you my wife!"

Fledra drew a long breath. All the stumbling petitions she had made toHeaven were answered by those few words. At last, to be Horace's wife, to save Flukey, and to protect Ann, who would now have back her lover!It seemed to the young girl, in this flashing moment of thought, thatall the clouds of the last few months had floated over their heads andaway. 

"It will take a few days before I can arrange our marriage, " explainedHorace. "One reason for not arranging today is that I have to run downto New York for two or three days; and then, too, I must be careful notto let anyone know of our plans. I want you to talk with my sister. Ihave told her that I love you. "

"Was she sorry?" whispered Fledra. 

"No--very, very glad!"

"And can I tell Floyd?"

"Yes, just as soon as you like. I have an idea your happiness will gofar to make him well. "

 * * * * *

For an hour Horace refused to let her leave him, and when Fledra did goback to the sick brother her face was radiant with happiness. Floyd wasnot prepared for the rush of words or the passionate appeal with whichshe met him. 

Blinking his eyes, the boy waved his sister back. 

"I can't make out what you're saying, Flea. "

"I'm going to marry Brother Horace!" She stopped, and began again. "I'mgoing to marry Horace--oh, so soon, Fluke! And aren't you glad? And thenthey can't take us away!"

It was the first intimation Floyd had had of their danger. He rose up, standing upon his legs tremblingly. 

"Has anybody been trying to take us away, Flea?"

Then Fledra realized what she had said, and hesitated in fear. 

"I forgot, you weren't to know, Fluke. Will you wait till I call BrotherHorace?... Fluke, don't be trembling like that! Sit down, Fluke!... Fluke!"

Floyd's face had paled, even to the tips of his ears. He realized nowthat danger had hung over the fair young sister and he had not known ofit. 

"It's Pappy Lon, and ye never told me, Flea, and that's why ye been sounhappy! He'll take ye away because yer his kid, and Brother Horacecan't do anything. "

"Yes, he can, Fluke--yes, he can! He loves me, and I love him, and he'sgoing to marry me! Nobody can't take a wife away from her man!... Fluke, don't wabble like that! Brother Horace! Brother Horace!"

Fledra's voice reached the dreaming man, bending over his desk, and hebounded to answer her call. He found her supporting her brother, whiteand shivering, with eyes strained by fright. 

"I told him, " gasped Fledra looking up; "but I didn't mean to. "

"Told him what?"

"Pappy Lon, " muttered Floyd, "comin' for Flea!"

Horace caught the words in dismay. 

He placed the suffering boy on the divan and bent close. In low toneshe said that the squatter in some mysterious way had found where theywere, and that he had come for them. He began at the beginning, explaining to the boy Lon's demand upon him. He refrained, however, frommentioning Everett, because of the pain to his sister. He had justfinished the story, when Ann softly opened the door and came in. 

"But I insist that you will place your faith in me, Floyd. I shall seeto it that neither you nor your sister leave me--unless you go of yourown free will, " Horace concluded. 

"If Pappy Lon takes one of us, " muttered Floyd, as Miss Shellingtoncalmed him with sweet interest, "let him take me. I'm as good as dead, anyhow. I want Flea to marry Brother Horace. "

"And so she will, " assured Ann. "Now then, Dear, try and sleep. "

During the rest of the afternoon Ann held conferences with her brother, fluttering back and forth from him to Floyd, and then to Fledra. Shenoted that the strained expression had gone from the girl's face, anduttered a little prayer of thanksgiving when she heard Horace's heartylaugh ring out once more. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Everett Brimbecomb took the letter Lon Cronk handed him, without risingfrom his chair. 

"It be for Flea, " said Lon, grinning, "and I think she'll understand it. It's as plain as that nose on yer face, Mister. "

"May I read it?" asked the lawyer indifferently. Then, as Lon nodded, heslipped the letter deftly from the finger-marked envelop and read thecontents with a smile. "It's strong enough, " he said, replacing it. "I, too, think she'll succumb to that. If you'll leave this letter with me, I'll see that she gets it. "

Everett put the envelop in a drawer and implied that the interview wasat an end. But the squatter twirled his cap in his fingers and lingered. 

"Lem says as how he'll take the gal and me in his scow to Ithaca. Ye canfollow us when ye git ready. "

The younger man stood up, nodding his approval. 

"That'll be just the way to do it, and I shall look to you, Mr. Cronk, to keep faith with me. Frankly speaking, I do not like your friend. Ithink he's a rascal. "

"Well, he be a mean cuss; but there be other cusses besides Lem, Mister. "

Brimbecomb flushed at the meaning glance in the squatter's shrewd eyes. 

"All you both have to do, " said he bruskly, "is to spend the money I'llgive you--and keep your mouths shut. "

If Everett had noted the crafty expression on the squatter's face as thelatter walked down the street, he would not have been so satisfied overhis deal with Lon. After he was alone, he reread Cronk's letter. Laterhe wrote steadily for sometime. His communication also was for Fledra, and he intended by hook or crook to get it to her with the other. 

 * * * * *

There never had been greater rejoicing in the Shellington home than onthe night when it was settled that Fledra was to marry Horace. It wasdecided that after the wedding the girl should have tutors andprofessors. A lovelight had appeared in the gray eyes when she promisedAnn that she would study diligently until Horace and Floyd and all herdear ones would be proud of her advancement. How gently Ann encircledthe little figure before she said goodnight, and how tearfully shecongratulated Horace that he had won such a fond, faithful heart for hisown! Even after kissing Floyd, and tucking the coverlet about hisshoulders, the young woman was again drawn to Fledra. 

"May I come in, Darling?" she whispered. 

Fledra did not cease combing her curls before the mirror when shewelcomed Miss Shellington. 

"I simply couldn't go to bed, child, " said Ann, "until I came to see youagain. I feel so little like sleeping!"

Fledra turned a blushing, happy face upon her friend. 

"And I'm not going to sleep tonight, either. I'm going to stay awake allnight and be glad. "

This brought Ann's unhappiness back to her, and she smiled sadly as shethought of her own tangled love-affair. 

"I want you and my brother to be very happy. "

Fledra dropped her comb and looked soberly at the other. 

"I'm not good enough for him, " she said, with a sigh; "but he loves me, and I love him more than the whole world put together, Sister Ann. "

The young face had grown radiant with idealized love and faith, andthrough the shining gray eyes, in which bits of brown shaded to golden, Ann could see the girl's soul, pure and lofty. She marked how it hadgrown, had expanded, under great love, and marveled. 

"I know that, Dearest. I wish I were as happy as you!"

The pathos in her tones, the sad lines about Ann's sweet mouth, madeFledra grasp her hands in girlish impetuousness. 

"He'll come back to you, Sister Ann, some day, " she breathed. "He thinksPappy Lon ought to have us kids, and that's what makes him work againstyou and Brother Horace. He can't stay away from you long. "

Ann shook her head mournfully. 

"I fear he doesn't love me, Fledra, or he couldn't have done as he has. Sometimes it seems as if I must send for him; for he isn't bad atheart. " She rested her eyes on Fledra's face imploringly. "You think, don't you, Dear, that when a woman loves a man as I love him her love inthe end will help him?"

Fledra thought of her own mad affection for Horace, of his love for her, and of how her longing for him stirred the very depths of her soul, uplifting and refreshing it. She nodded her head. 

"He'll come back to her, all right, " she murmured after Ann had gone andshe had thrown herself on the bed. "Floyd will get well, and Horace andI--" She dropped asleep, and the morning had fully dawned before sheopened her eyes to another day. 

 * * * * *

Then, as Fledra sat up in bed, brushed back the curls from her face, andwith the eagerness of a child thought over the happy yesterday, suddenlyher eyes fell upon an envelop, lying on the carpet just beneath herwindow. It had not been there the night before. She slipped to thefloor, picked up the sealed letter with her name on it, and climbed intobed again, while examining it closely. With a mystified expression uponher face, she tore open the envelop. Unfolding one of the two letters, inclosed, she read:

 "_Flea Cronk_. --

 "This is to tell ye that if ye don't come back with me and Lem, we'll kill that guy Shellington and Flukey. Flukey can stay there if he wants to, if you come. Make up yer mind, and don't ye tell any man that I writ this letter. Come to Lem's scow in the river, or ye know what I does to Flukey. 

 "LON CRONK. "

Fledra folded up the letter and opened the other one dazedly. It waswritten with a masterly pen-stroke, and the girl, without reading it, looked at the signature. It was signed, "Everett Brimbecomb. " Her eyesflashed back to the beginning, and she read it through swiftly:

 "_Little Miss Cronk_. --

 "I am delivering this letter in a peculiar way, because I know that you had rather not have anyone see it. It is necessary that you should think calmly and seriously over the question I am going to ask you. I am very fond of you. Whether or not you will return my affection is a thing for you to decide in the future. Now, then, the question is, Do you want to protect your brother and your friends from the anger of your father? If so, you must go with him. I will answer for it that your brother stays where he is; but you must go away. Think well before you decide not to go; for I know the men who are determined to have you, and would save you if I could. I shall try to see you very soon. Destroy this letter immediately. Your friend, "EVERETT BRIMBECOMB. "

Fledra sat as if in a trance, her eyelids drooping over almost sightlesseyes. The last blow had fallen upon her, and she knew that she must go. That she could ever be forced away thus without her brother, that Horacecould be given no chance to help her, had never crossed her mind. Through her imagination drifted Lon's dark, cruel face, followed by avision of Lem Crabbe. Feature after feature of the scowman came vividlyto her, --the wind-reddened skin, the foul, tobacco-browned lips, thetwitching goiter, --all added to the nervous chill that had suddenly comeupon the girl. Lem and Lon represented all the world's evil to her, andEverett Brimbecomb all the world's influence. The three had thrust theirtriple strength between her and happiness. Her dear ones should not fallbefore the wrath of Lem and Lon, or before the unsurmountable power ofEverett Brimbecomb! In her hands alone lay their salvation. Like onestunned, she rose from the bed and carefully destroyed the two letters. This was the one command she would obey promptly. 

When Ann knocked softly at the door, and no answer came, she gentlypushed it open. Fledra lay with her face to the wall as if asleep. MissShellington bent over her, and then crept quietly out to allow the girlto rest another hour. No sooner had the door closed than Fledra sat upwith clenched fists, her face blanched with terror. She could notconfront the inevitable without help. But not once did it occur to herthat Horace Shellington would be able to protect not only her, buthimself also. The path of her future life stretched from Tarrytown toIthaca, straight into Lem's scow!

 * * * * *

Through the entire day the girl was enigmatical both to Horace and toAnn. Weary hours, crowding one upon another, offered her no relief. Thethought of Lon's letter shattered hope and made her desolate. She didnot stop to reason that her relations with Horace demanded that she tellhim of Everett's perfidy. Had not her loved ones been threatened withdeath, if she disclosed having received the letters? She spent most ofthe day with Floyd, saying but little. 

In the evening Fledra waited wide-eyed and sleepless until the householdwas quiet, and while she waited she pondered dully upon a plan toescape. Toward night two faint hopes had taken possession of her:Everett Brimbecomb could help her; Pappy Lon might. Before leaving Floydand severing her connections with Horace, she would appeal to thesquatter and his lawyer. She opened the window and looked out. It wasbut a short drop to the path at the side of the house. 

At half-past ten Fledra slipped into her coat and set a soft, light capupon her black curls. In another minute she had reached the road and hadturned toward Brimbecomb's. To escape any eyes in the house she had justleft, she scurried to the graveyard. For an instant only did she halt, and, somber-eyed, glance over the graves. She could easily mark the spotwhere she had lain so long with Floyd, and tears welled into her eyes asshe thought of him. How many things had happened since then! In hastyreview came week after week of the time she had spent with Horace andAnn. How she loved them both! Turning, she scanned the gloomy Brimbecombhouse. In the servants' quarters at the top several lights burned, whileon the drawing-room floor a gas-jet shot forth its beams into SleepyHollow. If Mr. Brimbecomb were at home, then he must be in that room. Fledra crouched under the window. 

"Mr. Brimbecomb! Mr. Brimbecomb!" she called. 

Silence, as dense as that in God's Acre near her, reigned in the house. She called again, a little louder. Suddenly she heard a rapid step uponthe road and crept back again to the corner of the building. 

Everett Brimbecomb was passing under the arc light, and Fledra could seehis handsome face plainly in its rays. 

He stopped a moment and looked at Shellington's house, with a shrug ofhis shoulders. Again he resumed his way; but halted as Fledra called hisname softly. From her hiding-place in the shadow of the porch she cameslowly forward. 

"Can I talk with you a few moments, Mr. Brimbecomb?" she faltered. "Iknow that you can help me, if you will. "

Everett's heart began to beat furiously. Something in the appealing girlattacked him as nothing else had. How slim she looked, how lithe andgraceful, and yet so childishly young! He compared her with Ann in rapidthought, and remembered that he had never felt toward Horace's sister ashe did toward this obscure girl. 

"Come in, " he murmured; "we can't talk here. Come in. "

"Let me tell you out here in the night, " stammered Fledra. 

Everett touched her arm, urging her forward. 

"They may see us from the Shellingtons', " he said; and, in spite of herunwillingness, he forced her up the steps. Like the wind of a hurricane, a mixture of emotions stormed in his soul. He dared not do as he wishedand take the girl in his arms. He checked his desire to force his loveupon her, and motioned to a chair, into which Fledra sank. Like shiningebony, her black hair framed a death-pale face. The darkness of a newgrief had deepened the shade in the mysterious eyes. For an instant shepaused on the edge of tears. 

"I don't want to go back with Pappy Lon!" she whispered. 

Everett caught his breath. She was even more lovely than he hadremembered. Inwardly he cursed the squatters. If he could eliminate themfrom his plans--but they were necessary to him. 

"I don't like none o' the bunch of ye!" Fledra burst out in his silence. Brimbecomb's lips formed a slight smile. The girl pondered a moment, andcontinued fiercely, "And I hate Ithaca and all the squatters!"

"You speak very much like your father, " ventured the lawyer. "I can'tunderstand why you hate him. Your place is with him. "

The girl bowed her head and wept softly. She realized that when she wasexcited she could not remember her English. 

"I've been a squatter, " she said, forlornly shaking her head, "and Is'pose Pappy Lon has a right to me; but I love--"

"You love whom?"

"Mr. Shellington. Oh, Mr. Brimbecomb, can't ye help me to keep away fromPappy Lon? Can't ye make him see that I don't want to go back--that Ican't go back to Lem Crabbe ever?"

"There's no danger of your going to--what did you say his name was?"

"Lem Crabbe--the man with a hook on his arm. I hate him so!"

"I remember seeing him once. I don't think you need worry over goingwith him. Your father is not a fool. "

"He promised me to Lem!" wailed Flea. 

"And he--promised--you to--me!"

So deliberately did Everett speak that Fledra was on her feet before thesentence was finished. Horror, deep-seated, rested in the eyes raised tohis. Oh, surely she had not heard aright!

"What did ye say?" she demanded. 

"Your father has promised you to me. "

"Oh, that's why you done it, was it? That's why ye fit Sister Ann andBrother Horace? 'Cause ye wanted me to go with ye! I hate ye like Ihate--the devil!"

Her words, grossly coarse, struck and stung the man to action. He strodeforward and grasped her arm roughly in his fingers. 

"You little fury, what do I care how much you hate me? It's a man'spleasure to conquer a woman like you. You can have your choice betweenthe other man and me. "

Dumb with fright and amazement, his treachery driving every thought fromher mind for the moment, Fledra looked at him. 

"I'd rather go with Lem, " she got out at last, "'cause I couldn't standyer hellish pretty face nor yer white teeth. They look like them bigstones standing over the dead men out yonder. "

With a backward motion of her head toward the window, Fledra drawled outthe last words insultingly. That she preferred Lem to him woundedEverett's pride, but made him desire her the more. He loved her justthen so much that, if it had been in his power, he would have marriedher instantly. Her fine-fibered spirit attracted all the evil in him asa magnet draws a needle. Fledra brought him from his reverie. 

"There ain't no use of my standin' here any longer, " she said. "I mightas well go and ask Pappy Lon. He's better'n you. "

To let her go this way seemed intolerable. 

"Wait, " he commanded, "wait! When you came in, I didn't mean to offendyou. Will you wait?"

"If ye'll help me keep away from Pappy Lon, and will promise nothin'will happen to Brother Horace or to Fluke. "

"I can't do that; it's impossible. But I can take you away, after youget back to Ithaca. "

"Can I come back to Brother Horace?"

"No, no; you can't go there again! Now, listen, Fledra Cronk. I'll marryyou as soon as you'll let me. "

Fledra's eyelids quivered. 

"I'll stay with Pappy Lon and Lem, because I love Sister Ann too well togo with you. "

"Oh, I thought that was the reason, " said Everett. "All your hard wordsto me were from your tender, grateful heart. That only makes me like youthe better. "

Fledra turned to go. 

"But I don't like you, and I never will. Let me go now, because I'mgoin' down to the scow to Pappy Lon. "

Brimbecomb threw out an arm with an impetuous swing; but Fledra dartedunder it. 

"Don't--don't!" she cried brokenly. "Don't you never touch me, never--never! I don't want you to! Let me go now, please. "

Everett stepped aside and allowed her to reach the door. 

"I shall help you, if I can, child, " he put in, as she sprang out. "Remember--"

But Fledra did not wait to hear. She was outside the door and flyingdown the steps. 

 * * * * *

The wind came sharply from the north as, dejectedly, the girl made herway to the river. She had decided to appeal to Lon, to beg her future ofhim. Before she reached the scow, she could hear the gurgle of theriver, and the sound of the water came familiarly to her ears. Lem'sboat lay like a silent, black animal near the bank, and she came to astop at sight of it. How many times had she seen the dark boat snuggledin the gloom as she saw it now! How many times before had the candletwinkled from the small window, and the sign of life caused her toshiver in fear! But, thinking of what Lon's consent for her to remainwith her dear ones meant, she mounted the gangplank and descended theshort flight of stairs. 

Lon was seated in a chair by the table, and Lem on a stool nearby. Crabbe rose as the pale girl appeared before him; but Lon only displayedtwo rows of dark teeth. It seemed to him that all his waiting was over;that his wife's constant haunting of his strong spirit would cease, ifhe could tear the girl from her high estate and watch the small headbend under the indignities Lem would place upon her. The very fact thatshe had come when he had sent for her showed the fear in which she heldhim. 

Fledra unloosened her wrap from her throat as if it choked her. 

"How d'y' do, Flea?" grinned Cronk. His delight was like that of a smallboy who has captured a bright-winged butterfly in a net. 

"I got yer letter, Pappy Lon, " said Fledra, overlooking his impudentmanner. 

"And ye goin' to stay, ain't ye?" gurgled Lem. 

Fledra snapped out "Nope!" to the scowman's question, without looking athim. Her next words were directed to the squatter:

"I've come to beg ye, Pappy Lon, to let me stay in Tarrytown. Mr. Shellington wants to marry me. "

She was so frail, so girlishly sweet and desirable, that Lem uttered anoath. But Lon gestured a command of silence. 

"Ye can't marry no man yit, Flea, " said he. "Ye has to go back to thehut. " Determination rang in his words, and the face of the rigid girlpaled, and she caught at the table for support. "Ye see, " went on Lon, "a kid can't do a thing her pappy says she can't. I says yer to comehome to the shanty. And, if ye don't, then I'll do what I said I would. I'll kill that dude Shellington and--"

Before he could finish, Fledra burst in upon him. 

"Ye mustn't! Ye mustn't, Pappy Lon! I love him so! And he's so good! Andpoor little Flukey is so sick, though he's gettin' better, and if I'mhappy, then he'll get well! Don't ye love us one little bit, Pappy Lon?"She loosened her hold upon the table and neared the squatter. 

Cronk brushed his face awkwardly. The presence of his Midge filled thescow-room, and his dead baby, wee and well beloved, goaded him tocomplete his vengeance. For a few seconds he breathed hard, withdifficulty choking down sobs that shook his whole body. In a haze, theghost-woman wavered toward him through the long, bitter years he hadlived without her. She thrust herself between him and Fledra. The imagethat his heated brain had drawn up held out a tiny spirit babe, and soreal was the apparition that he put out a trembling hand. For a momenthe groped blindly for something tangible in the nothingness before him. Then, with a groan, he let his arm fall nerveless to his side. Thevision disappeared, and Lem's presence and even Fledra's faded; for Lonagain felt the agonizing cracking of his bones under the prisonstrait-jacket, and could hear himself shrieking. 

He started up and wiped drops of water from his face. He glared atFledra, his decision remaining steadfast within him. Only exquisitetorture for Vandecar's flesh and blood would appease the wrath of Midgeand the pale-faced child. 

"I love ye well enough to want ye to do my will, " he brought outhuskily, "and when Flukey gits well he'll come with me, too. "

Fledra braced herself for the ordeal. Lon had promised her in hisletter that sacrificing herself would mean safety for Floyd and herlover. She would not allow him to break that promise, however much hedemanded of her. 

Cronk spoke again:

"Ye'd better take off yer things and set down, Flea 'cause ye ain'tgoin' back. "

She made no move to obey him. 

"Yes, I'm goin' back to Flukey, " she said, "even if you make me comehere again. I haven't left any letter for him. But I'll come back to thescow, and go with you and Lem, if you let Fluke stay with Mr. Shellington. If you take him, you don't get me. "

"How ye goin' to help yerself?" Lon questioned, with a belittling sneer. 

"When I get hold of ye, " put in Lem, "ye'll want to stay. "

The squatter again motioned the scowman to silence. A fear, almost arespect, for this girl, with her solemn gray eyes and unbending manner, dressed like the people he hated, took root within him. 

Fledra's next address to Lon ignored Lem's growling threat. 

"I didn't come to fight with you, Pappy Lon. But you've got to let me goback and write a letter. I won't tell anybody that I'm goin' from home. Mr. Shellington's going to New York tomorrow, to stay four or five days. That'll give me a chance to get away, and I'll come to you againtomorrow night. But I'll go with you only when you say that Fluke canstay where he is. Do you hear, Pappy Lon?"

Her face expressed such commanding hauteur, she looked so like FloydVandecar when she threw up her head defiantly, that Cronk's big chestheaved with satisfaction. To take his grudge out upon her would beenough. He would cause her to suffer even more than had Midge. He waitedfor a few moments, with his eyes fastened upon her face, before hespoke. He remembered that she had never told him a lie nor broken apromise. 

"Ye swear that, if I let ye go now, ye'll come back tomorry night?"

"Yes, I swear it, if you'll swear that you'll let Fluke alone, and thatyou won't ever hurt Mr. Shellington. Do you swear it?" Her voice wastoned with a desperate passion, and she bent toward the squatter incommand. 

"I swear it, " muttered Lon. 

"And can I bring Snatchet with me? I want him because he's Flukey's, andbecause he'll love me. Can I, Pappy Lon?"

"Yep, damn it! ye can. Bring all the dogs in Tarrytown; but be backtomorry night. "

"I'll come, all right; but I'm goin' now. "

As the girl turned to go, Lem lumbered to his feet. 

"I've got somethin' to say about this!" he stuttered. 

"Sit down, Lem!" commanded Lon. 

Crabbe stood still. 

"That gal don't go back tonight! She's mine! Ye gived her to me, and Iwant her now. "

Lem wriggled his body between Fledra and the stairs; but the girl thrustherself upon him with an angry snarl. 

"Don't touch me with your dirty hands!" she gasped. 

Lem caught his breath. 

"Ye've let that rich pup of a Shellington kiss ye--ye don't move fromhere!"

Fledra crushed back against the cabin wall and eluded his searchingfingers. 

"I was goin' to marry Mr. Shellington; but I ain't now. I'm going backto him for tonight, and tomorrow, and I'm goin' to let him kiss me, andI'm goin' to kiss him. "

She put forward her face until her breath swept Lem's skin. 

"I'm goin' to kiss him as much--as much as he'll let me. And I'm goin'to write Fluke; and, if ye touches me afore I does all that--I'll killye!"

Lena drew back from her vehemence, leaving the way of the staircaseclear, and in another instant Fledra was gone. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The following day Shellington left for New York, immediately afterbreakfast. 

Fledra made no attempt to write her farewells until in the evening aftershe had looked her last upon Floyd, and Ann had seen her to bed. An hourpassed before she got up softly and turned on the light. She fumbledwarily about her table for writing materials, and after she had foundthem her tense face was bent long over the letters. When she hadfinished, she stole along the hall to Horace's study, and left there thetear-stained envelops for him and her brother. 

Once back in her room, she donned her street-clothes rapidly, and, aftertaking a silent farewell of the surroundings she loved, climbed throughthe window and dropped to the ground. She crept stealthily to the backof the house and approached the dog-kennels. Through the dim light shecould see the scrawny greyhounds pulling at their leashes as she fumbledat the wire-mesh door. Whines from several of the dogs made Fledra stepinside, whence she glanced out misgivingly to see if she had beenobserved. 

"Snatchet!" she whispered. 

From a distant corner she heard the rattle of a chain. 

"Snatchet!" she called again. 

This time she spoke more loudly and advanced a step. 

"Where are ye?"

A familiar whine gave her Snatchet's whereabouts. She felt her wayalong the right wall, and as she passed each animal she spoke tenderlyto it. Upon reaching the little mongrel, Fledra placed her face downclose to him. The glitter of his shining eyes, the warm contact of hiswet tongue, brought tears from her. She told him gently that they weregoing away together, going back to the country where many of the evilpersons of the world congregated. The girl took the collar from thedog's neck and, picking him up quickly, retraced her steps. 

"We're going back to the hut, Snatchet, " she told him again, "andFledra's going to take you because Floyd won't care when he's got SisterAnn--and Brother Horace. " At the mention of the man's name, the squattergirl bent her head over the yellow dog and sobbed. 

Then she ran until she was far from the house; but her steps lagged moreand more as she neared the river. Long before she reached it she stoppedand sat down. How intensely she wished that her sacrifice was to wanderalone with Snatchet the rest of her days! Anything would have beenpreferable to Lem and his scow. But the bargain with her enemies hadbeen the surrendering of herself to the canalman, and shortly she roseand proceeded on her way to the barge. Before entering it, she raisedher eyes to the sky. Everything was at peace with the Infinite, save herown little tortured soul. She dashed aside her tears and ascended thegangplank, halting at the top a moment to answer Middy Burnes' familiarcall to her. She saw that Middy had his little tug under steam and wasready to tow the scow away. Shuddering, Fledra went down the stairs intothe living-room, where Lem and Lon awaited her. 

Neither man spoke when she put Snatchet down on the floor and threw backthe lovely cloak she had received from Ann at Christmas. Lem's eyesglittered as he looked at it. Before Fledra entered, the scowman hadbeen industriously tacking a sole on a big leather boot, held tightlybetween his knees. Now he ceased working; the rusty hook loosened itshold upon the heel of the boot, and the hammer was poised lightly in hisleft hand. From his mouth protruded the sparkling points of some steeltacks. 

Lon was first to break the strained silence. 

"We been waitin' a long time fer ye, Flea. Ye've kept the tug a steamin'fer two hours. "

"I couldn't come before, " replied the girl. "I had to wait till Flukeand Sister Ann went to bed. "

Lon sneered as he repeated:

"Sister Ann!"

"She's the lady you saw when you were there, Pappy Lon. And she's thebest woman in all the world!"

The squatter smiled darkly. 

"Ye'd best put Snatchet in the back room, and then come here again andset down, Flea, 'cause it'll take a long time to get to Ithaca, andye'll be tired a standin'. "

His sarcasm caused no change to cross the girl's face; but Lem grinnedbroadly. He took the tacks from between his teeth and made as if tospeak. After a few vain stutters, however, he replaced the tacks andhammered away at the old boot. Now and then the goiter moved up anddown, each movement indicating the passage of a thought through hissluggish brain. 

Fledra removed Snatchet and returned to the living-cabin, as Lon hadsuggested. 

"I want to talk to you before I sit down, " she said in a low tone. "Whatare you going to do with me?"

Just then the scow lurched, and the whistle of the tug ahead screamed afarewell to Tarrytown. Fledra heard the grinding of the boat against thelanding as it was pulled slowly away, and she sprang to the window. Shetook one last glimpse of the promised land, one lingering look at thetwinkling lights, which shone like glow-worms and seemed to signalsympathy to the terrified girl. Finally she turned a tearless face toLon. 

"I want to know what you're going to do with me when we get to Ithaca. Can I stay awhile with Granny Cronk?"

She glanced fearfully from Lon to the scowman, whose lips were now freeof the nails. His wide smile disclosed his darkened teeth as hestammered:

"Yer Granny Cronk's been chucked into a six-foot hole in the ground, andye won't see her no more. "

Staring at the speaker, Fledra fell back against the wall. 

"Granny Cronk ain't dead! She ain't! You're lying, Lem Crabbe!"

"Ask yer daddy, if ye don't believe me, " grunted Lem. 

Fledra cast imploring eyes to Lon. 

"Yer granny went dead a long time ago, " verified the squatter. 

"Then I can stay with you, Pappy Lon, just for a little time. Oh, PappyLon, " tears rose slowly, and sobs caught her throat as she advancedtoward him, "I'll cook for you, and I'll work days and nights, if I canlive with you!" She was so near him that she allowed a trembling hand tofall upon his arm. But he spurned it, shaking it off as he growled:

"Don't tech me! Set down and shut up!"

She passed over the repulse and sobbed on:

"But, Pappy Lon, I'd rather die, I'd rather throw myself in the water, than stay with Lem in this boat! I want to tell you how I'veprayed--Sister Ann taught me to. I always asked that Flukey might stayin Tarrytown, and that nothing would ever hurt Mr. Shellington. I neverdared pray for myself, because--because God had enough to do to help allthe other ones, and because I never asked anything for myself till youfound me. I want to stay right in the shanty with you, Pappy Lon. Ihate Lem--oh, how I hate him!"

Lem coughed and wheezed. 

"I guess we'd better shet her claptrap once and fer all, " he said. "Lon, ye leave me to settle with Flea--I know how. "

The squatter silenced Lem with a look and rose lumberingly. As he strucka match and made toward the steps, Fledra followed close after him. 

"Pappy Lon, if you'll stay with me here on the boat till we get toIthaca, then I'll do what you say when we get there. You sha'n't go andleave me now with Lem, you sha'n't, you sha'n't!" Her voice rose to ashriek, and her small body trembled like a leaf in a wind. So loud wereher cries, and so fiercely did she clutch at Lon's coat, that he turnedsavagely upon her. 

"I'll do what I please. Shet up, or Middy'll hear ye. Git yer hands offen me!"

"Pappy Lon, if you leave me with Lem, then I'll jump in the river!"

She bit her lips to stifle the sobs; but still clung beseechingly to hiscoat. 

Lon stepped backward from the chair, and whirled about so quickly thathis coat was jerked from Fledra's grasp. 

"Then I'll take Fluke, and what I won't do to him ain't worth speakin''bout. " He glanced at her face and stopped. Never had he seen such anexpression. Her bleeding lips and flaring eyes sent him a step from her. 

"If you leave me with Lem, " she hissed her repetition, "then I'll jumpin the river!" Seeing that he hesitated, she went on, "You stay rightin here with Lem and me, Pappy Lon, and when we get to the hut I'll dowhat you tell me. "

Fledra heard Lem drop the old boot he had been mending and advancetoward her. She turned upon him, and the scowman halted. 

"I said as how I'd settle with ye, Flea, " he said, "and now I'm goin'to. "

But Lon glared so fiercely that Crabbe closed his mouth and retreated. 

"It ain't time fer ye to settle yet, Lem, I'm a thinkin', " said Lon. "Yekeep shet up, or I'll settle with ye afore ye has a chance to fix Flea. "Turning to the girl, he questioned her. "Did ye tell anyone ye was goin'with me?" Fledra nodded her head. "Did ye tell Flukey?"

"Yes, and Mr. Shellington. But I told them both that I came of my ownfree will. But you know I came because I wanted Mr. Shellington to liveand Flukey to stay where he is. But I ain't going to be alone in thisroom with Lem tonight--I tell you that!"

Lon sat down and smoked moodily on his pipe. After a few minutes'thought he said:

"Ye can sleep in that back room where ye put the dorg, Flea, and ifthere's a key in the lock ye can turn it. You come up to the deck withme, Lem. "

With a dark scowl, the scowman followed the squatter upstairs. He hadreckoned that the hour to take Flea was near; but Lon's heavy hand heldhim back. When they were standing side by side in the darkness of thebarge-deck, Cronk spoke. 

"Lem, " he said, "I told ye before that Flea ain't like Flukey. She'djust as soon throw herself into that water as she'd look at ye. Sheain't afraid of nothin' but you, and ye've got to keep yer hands offenher till I git her foul, do ye hear?"

"Ye ain't keepin' me away just fer the sake of that high-tonedBrimbecomb pup, be ye, Lon?"

"Nope. I'd rather you'd have her, Lem, 'cause ye'll beat her and makeher wish a hundred times a day that she'd drowned herself. I say, if yelet me fix this thing, ye'll come out on the top of the heap. If yedon't, she'll raise a fuss, and, if that damned governor gets wind ofit, he might catch on that the kid be his. He'd run us both down aforeye could say jackrabbit. Ye let Flea alone till I say ye can have her. "

"If yer dealin' fair--"

The squatter interrupted his companion with an angry growl. 

"Have I ever cheated ye out of any money?"

"Nope, " answered Lem. 

"Then I won't cheat ye out of no girl; fer I love a five-cent piecebetter'n Flea any time. Now, shet up, and we'll go down to sleep!"

 * * * * *

Fledra fled into the back room, and, closing the door quickly, slippedthe bolt. She glanced about the cabin, which through the candlelightlooked dirty and miserably mean. But it was a haven of escape from Lem, and she welcomed it. A large can of tobacco was on a wooden box. Fledraknew this belonged to the canalman and that he would come after it. Shepicked it up, and, opening the door, shoved it far into the other room. She could bear Lon's muttering voice on the deck above, and the swish ofthe water as the tug pulled the scow along. Once more she carefullylocked the cabin door, and then, with a sob, dropped to her knees, burying her face in the coarse blanket that covered the bunk. Long andwildly she wept, her sobs frequently stopping the utterance of anattempted prayer. Finally her exhaustion overcame her, and she fell intoa troubled sleep. 

CHAPTER THIRTY

When Fledra opened her eyes the next morning she could not at firstrealize where she was. When she did she rose from the bed fully dressed;for she had taken off none of her clothing the night before. She drew along breath as she realized that she would not be pestered by Lem duringthe trip to Ithaca. Peering through the small cabin window, she couldsee that they were slowly passing the farms on the banks of the river asthe barge was towed slowly through the water. The peace of springoverspread each field, covering the land as far as the girl could see. Herds of cattle grazed calmly on the hills, and she could hear the fainttinkling of their bells above the chug-chug of Middy's small steamerahead. At intervals fleets of barges, pulled along by struggling littletugboats, passed between her and the bank. These would seeTarrytown--the promised land of Screech Owl's prophecy, the paradise shehad been forced to leave! The light of self-sacrifice shone in heruplifted eyes, and many times her sight was blurred by tears; but nothought of escape from Lem and Lon came to her mind. To reenter herpromised land would place her beloved ones in jeopardy. 

Her reverie left her at a call from Lon, and she unfastened thecabin-door. 

"Come out and get the breakfast fer us, Kid, " ordered the squatter. 

Fledra left the little room and mechanically prepared the coarse food. When it was ready, she took her seat opposite Cronk, and Lem dragged achair to the table by the aid of the hook on his arm. 

"Ye're feelin' more pert this mornin', Flea, " said Lon, after drinking acup of black coffee. 

"Yes, " replied Flea faintly. 

"And are ye goin' to mind yer pappy now?" pursued Lon. 

"Yes, after we get to Ithaca, " murmured Fledra. 

"Tell me what ye said to Flukey in yer note. "

"I told him he could stay with Brother Horace; but that I'd go with you, and--"

Her slow precise speech made a decided impression upon Lem; for heceased eating and stared at her open-mouthed. But Cronk brought his fistdown on the table with a thump that rattled the tin dishes. 

"Don't be puttin' on no guff with me, brat!" he shouted. "Ye talk as Iteeched ye to, and not as them other folks do. "

Fledra fell into a resentful silence. 

After a few seconds, Cronk said:

"Now, go on, Kid, and tell me what ye told him. "

"If you won't let me speak as I like, Pappy Lon, then I'll keep still. "

The girl faced him with brave unconcern, with such reckless defiancethat Lon drew down his already darkened brow. 

"Yer gettin' sassy!" Lem grunted, with his mouth full of food. 

Cronk held his peace. He peered at her covertly, as if he would discoverwhat had so changed her since the night before. Her dignity, the haughtypoise of her head as she looked straight at him, filled him withsomething like dismay. Would Lem be able to subdue her with brute force?The scowman also observed her stealthily, compared her to Scraggy, andwondered. They both waited for Fledra to continue; but during the restof the meal she did not speak again. 

 * * * * *

Miss Shellington was deeply surprised when the deputy met her with anopen letter in his hand, and said:

"The court has called me away, Ma'm. I guess your troubles are allover. "

For a moment Ann did not comprehend the meaning of his words. Then shelaid a trembling hand on his arm and faltered:

"Possibly they'll send someone else; but I'd much rather you'd stay. Weare--we are used to you. "

"Thanks, Ma'm; but no one else won't come--the case has been calledoff. "

Increasing excitement reddened Miss Shellington's cheeks. 

"Oh, do you think they are going to leave them here with us?"

The deputy buttoned his coat and put on his hat. 

"I'm sure I don't know; but I'd almost think so, or I wouldn't have gotthis order. " He tapped his breast-pocket and made as if to go; but hefaced the other once more instead, with slightly rising color. "Youstill have your doctor's orders, Miss, that nobody can take the boy awayfor sometime; so don't worry. And, Ma'm, " the red in his face deepened, "you ain't prayed all these weeks for nothing. I ain't much on prayingmyself; but I've got a lot of faith in a pretty, good young lady whenshe does it. Goodby, Ma'm. "

As Ann bade the officer farewell, the relief from haunting fears andracking possibilities almost overcame her. She went back to Floyd, resolutely holding up under the strain. She told him that the strangerhad gone; but that, as she had received no communication, she did notknow the next steps that would be taken. 

It was nearly nine o'clock when Ann tapped softly upon Fledra's door. There had been no sign of life from the blue room that morning; for MissShellington had given orders that Fledra be allowed to sleep if she sowished. Now, however, she wanted the girl to come to the dining-room towelcome Flukey to his first meal at the table and to learn that thedeputy had been withdrawn. When no voice answered her knock, Ann turnedthe handle of the door and peeped in. Fledra's bed was open, and lookedas if its occupant had just got up. Miss Shellington passed through tothe bathroom, and called. She ran back hastily to the bed and put herhand upon it. The sheets were cold, while the pillow showed only a faintimpression where Fledra's dark head had rested. Miss Shellington pausedand glanced about, fright taking the place of expectancy on her face. She hurried to the open window and looked out. Then she rushed to thekitchen and questioned the servants. None of them had seen Fledra, allwere earnestly certain that the girl had not been about the house duringthe morning. Ann thought of Floyd, and for the nonce her fears wereforced aside. In spite of her anxiety, she had a smile on her lips asshe entered the breakfast-room and took her seat opposite the boy. 

"We'll have to eat without Sister this morning, " she said gently to theconvalescent. "She's a tired little girl. "

"She'd be glad to see me here, " said Floyd wistfully. "Sister Ann, what's the matter with Fledra?"

Miss Shellington would have given much to have been able to answer thisquestion. Finally her alarm became so strong that she left her breakfastunfinished, and, unknown to Floyd, instituted a systematic search forthe girl. Many were the excuses she made to the waiting young brother asthe day lengthened hour by hour. Again and again he demanded thatFledra be brought to him. At length the parrying of his questions byMiss Shellington aroused his suspicions, so that he grew nervous andfretful. Five o'clock came, and yet no tidings of the girl. Ann'sanxiety had now become distraction; for her brother's absence threw uponher shoulders the responsibility of the girl's disappearance, and thecare of Floyd should he suffer a relapse. Her perturbation became sounbearable that she put her pride from her, and sought the aid ofEverett Brimbecomb. 

She called him on the telephone, and, when his voice answered herclearly over the wire, she felt again all her old desire to be with him;her agitation and uncertainty increased her longing. 

"Everett, I'm in dreadful trouble. Can't you come over a moment?"

"Of course, dear girl. I'll come right away. "

Not many minutes later Ann herself ushered Everett into thedrawing-room, where she had spent such happy hours with him. But, whenthey were alone, her distrust of him once more took possession of her, and she looked sharply at him as she asked:

"Everett, do you know where Fledra has gone?"

"Who? Fledra Vandecar?" His taunt was untimely, and his daring smilechanged her distrust to repulsion. 

"No; you know whom I mean--Fledra Cronk. She's, not here. Horace hasgone away for a few days, and I'm wild with anxiety. Will you help mefind her, Everett? She must be here with us until it is decided whichway the matter will go. "

They had been standing apart; but the girl's words drew him closer, andhe took her hand in his. He had truly missed her, and was glad to be inher confidence once more. 

"Ann, you've never been frank with me in this matter; but I'm going toreturn good for evil. I really don't know where the girl is; still, anything I can do I will. But I do know that her father has seen her;for he told me about it. It was--"

Ann cut him off with a sharp cry:

"But he's seen her only the once, Everett--only that one afternoon whenhe first came. "

This time Everett answered with heart-rending deliberateness:

"You're mistaken, Ann. Your paragon got out of the window when you wereall asleep, " Ann's sudden pallor disturbed the lawyer only an instant, and, not heeding her clutch on his arm or a pained ejaculation from her, he proceeded, "and went to her father. He told me this. Ann, don't bestupid. Don't totter that way. Sit down, here, child. No, don't push meaway.... Well, as you please!"

"Oh, you seem so heartless about it, " gasped Ann, "when you know howHorace loves her!"

Miss Shellington did not notice the smile that crossed his lips as helooked down at her, or the triumph in his eyes when he said:

"But, Ann, I've told you only what you've asked of me. I think you'rerather unkind, Dear. "

"I don't intend to be, " she moaned, leaning back and closing her eyes. "Oh! she was with us so long! What shall I say to Horace?"

"Didn't you say he was out of town?"

"Yes, for four or five days, " Ann put the wrong meaning to Everett'sdeep sigh, and she finished; "but I'm going to send for him. "

"And, pray, what can he do? The girl is gone, and that ends it. "

"But Horace might ascertain if she had been forced to go. "

Brimbecomb laughed low. 

"No one could force her to jump from the window of her bedroom. "

"Everett, Fledra has always said that she hated her father, and that shenever wanted to go back to him, because he abused both her and herbrother. "

"Yes, so you told me before, and I think I remember telling you that youwere making a mistake in trusting in her truthfulness. It seems herbrother told her that he did not wish to return with the squatter; soshe left him here with you. For my part, " Everett pressed closer to her, "I'm glad that she is gone. The coming of those children completelychanged both you and Horace. You'll get used to ingratitude beforeyou've done much charity work. "

Ann's intuition increased her disbelief in the man opposite her. 

"Everett, will you swear to me that you had nothing to do with hergoing?"

Brimbecomb swore glibly enough, and supplemented his oath with:

"I've always felt, though, that you should not have them here; and Ican't say that I shouldn't have taken them away, if I could, Ann. Don'tyou think we could overlook past unpleasantness, and let ourarrangements go on as we intended they should?"

Ann rose hastily to her feet. She was sorely tempted to fall into hisarms. How handsome he looked, how strongly his eyes pleaded with her!But her vague fears and distrust held her back. She sank again to thechair. 

"No, no--not just yet, Everett, " she said. "I've loved you dearly; but Ican't understand Fledra's disappearance. Oh, I--I don't know how tomeet Horace! He loved and trusted her so!" Again she looked at him withindecision. "Come back to me, Dear, " she whispered, "when it is allover. I'm so unhappy today!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Floyd raised his head when Ann bent over him. Agitation and sorrow hadso altered her that the change brought him to a half-sitting position. 

"Flea's sick, I bet!" he burst out, without waiting to be addressed. "Don't try to fool me, Sister Ann. "

As his suspicion grew within him, his eyes traveled over her face againand again; then he put his feet on the floor and stood up. 

"Ye didn't tell me the truth this morning, did ye?"

Miss Shellington forced him gently back on the divan, and sat downbeside him. 

"I'd hoped, Floyd, dear, " she said tremblingly, "that we were all goingto be happy. You must be brave and help me, won't you? If you shouldbecome ill again, I think I should die. "

"Then, tell me about Flea. Has Pappy Lon--"

"Fledra went back to him last night of her own free will. "

With eyes growing wide from fear, Floyd stared at her. 

"I don't know what you mean! Did she tell ye she was a goin'?"

"No, Dear. This morning Fledra was not in her bedroom, and for awhile Ithought she had not heeded our cautions, but had gone out for a walk. But Mr. Brimbecomb has just told me that Fledra went back with yourfather, and that, she had not been forced to go. "

"I don't believe it!" The boy's voice was sharp with agony. "Pappy Lonmade her go--ye can bet on that, Sister Ann! Flea wouldn't go backthere without a reason. I bet that big duffer of yours had a finger inthe pie. "

Ann flushed painfully. 

"Floyd, dear, don't, I beg of you!"

"I'm sorry I said that, Sister Ann. But Flea didn't go for nothin'. Sister Ann, will you and Brother Horace find out why she went? I have togo, too, if Flea's in the hut. Pappy Lon and Lem'll kill her!"

He attempted to rise; but Ann's restraining hand held him back. 

"Floyd, Floyd, dear, we don't know where she's gone; but my brother willcome soon, and he'll find her. He won't let Fledra be kept from us, ifshe wants to come back. "

The boy's rigid body did not relax at her assurance, nor did herargument lessen his determination. 

"But what about Lem? You don't know Lem, Sister Ann. He's the worst manI ever see. I've got to go and get my sister!"

"Floyd, you'd die if you should try to go out now. Why, Dear, you canscarcely stand. Now, listen! I'll send a telegram to my brother, andhe'll be right back. Then, if you are determined to go, and can, he'lltake you. Why, child, you haven't been out in weeks!"

 * * * * *

Three days crawled slowly along, and yet Horace made no response to themany frantic telegrams that Ann had sent. Never had the hours seemed soleaden-winged as those passed waiting for him to come. Ann had receivedone note from him, and three letters for Fledra lay unopened in thegirl's room. His note to Ann was from Boston, and she immediately sent adespatch to him there. 

On the fourth day after Fledra's disappearance, when Ann met herbrother, one glance told her that he was unaware of their trouble. 

"Oh, Horace, I thought you'd never get here! Didn't you receive any ofmy telegrams?"

"No! What's the matter? Has something happened to Floyd? Where'sFledra?"

"Gone!" gasped Ann. 

"Gone! Gone where?"

His voice was filled with imperious questioning, and Ann stifled hersobs. 

"I know only what Everett has told me. When we got up the morning afteryou left, she was gone. I called Everett over, and he told me she wentwith her father of her own free will. The squatter told him so. "

"He's a liar! And if he's inveigled that girl--"

Ann's loyalty to Everett forced her to say:

"Hush, Horace! You've no right to say anything against him until you aresure. "

Shellington took several rapid strides around the room. 

"If I'd only known it before!"

"I've tried to reach you, " Ann broke in; "but my messages could not havebeen delivered. "

"Oh, I'm not blaming you, Ann, " he said in a lower tone. "But those menin some way have forced her to go. I'm sure of it! Fledra would neverhave gone with them willingly. Did she leave no message, no word? Haveyou searched my room? Have you looked every where?"

"No, I didn't look in your room--it didn't enter my mind. Why didn't Ithink of that before? Come, we'll look now. "

Under the large blotter on his desk Horace found the two tear-stainedletters Fledra had left. With a groan the frantic lover tore open theone directed to him and read it. 

"She's gone with them!" he said slowly in a hollow voice, and sank intoa chair. 

Miss Shellington took the note from his outstretched hand, and read:

 "_Mr. Shellington_. --

 "I'm going away because I don't like your house any more. Let Floyd stay and let your sister take care of him like when I was here. Give him this letter and tell him I'll love him every day. I took Snatchet because I thought I'd be lonely. Goodby. "

The last words were almost illegible. With twitching face, Ann handedthe letter back to Horace. 

In the man before her she almost failed to recognize her brother, sogreat was the change that had come over him. She threw her arms tenderlyabout him, and for many minutes neither spoke. At length, with a start, Horace loosened his sister's arms and stood up. 

"Give Floyd his note--and leave me alone for a while, Dear. "

His tone served to hasten Ann's ready obedience. She took the note forFloyd and went out. 

Four times Horace read and reread his letter. He was tortured with athousand fears. Where had she gone, and with whom? And why should shehave left him, when she had so constantly and sincerely evinced her lovefor him? She could not have gone back to the squatters; for her hatredof them had been intense. He remembered what she had told him of LemCrabbe--and sprang to his feet with an oath. Hot blood rushed to hisfingertips, and left them dripping with perspiration. He fought with adesire to kill someone; but banished the thought that Fledra had notheld faith with him. He called to mind her affection and passionatedevotion, and knew that to doubt her would be unjust. But, if to leavehim had made her unhappy, why had she gone? He thought of Floyd'sletter, and a sudden wish to read it seized him. 

When he entered the boy's room Floyd was lying flat on his back, staringfixedly at Miss Shellington, who was deciphering the letter for him. Sheceased reading when her brother appeared. 

"Horace, " she said, rising, "Floyd says he doesn't believe that Fledrawent of her own free will. He thinks she was forced in some way. "

Horace stooped and looked into the boy's white face, at the same timetaking Fledra's letter from Ann. 

"Flea can't make me think, Brother Horace, " said Flukey, "that she went'cause she wanted to. Pappy Lon made her go, I bet! There's something wedon't know. I want you to take me up there to Ithaca, and when I getthere I can find her. Prayin' won't keep her from Lem. We've got to dosomething. "

Horace shot a glance of inquiry at his sister. 

"We prayed every morning, Dear, " she said simply, "that our little girlmight be protected from harm. "

"She shall be protected, and I will protect her! Where's the deputy?"

"They called him away the morning Fledra left. "

"May I read your letter, Floyd?"

"Sure!" replied the boy wearily. 

Shellington's eyes sought the paper in his hand:

 "_Floyd love_. --

 "I'm going away, but I will love you every day I live. Floyd, could you ask Sister Ann to pray for everyone--me, too? Forgive me for taking Snatchet--I wanted him awfully. You be good to Sister Ann and always love Brother Horace and mind every word he says. I'm going away because I want to. Remember that, Floyd dear, goodby. 

 "FLEDRA. "

After finishing the letter, Horace said to Ann, "I must see Brimbecombat once. " And he turned abruptly and went out. Ann followed himhurriedly. 

"Horace, dear, you won't quarrel with him, for my sake. "

"Not unless he had a hand in taking her away. God! I'm so troubled Ican't think. "

Ann watched him go to the telephone; then, with a premonition of evengreater coming evil, she crept back to Floyd. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When Horace ushered Brimbecomb into his home, so firm was his beliefthat the young lawyer had been instrumental in removing Fledra that herestrained himself with difficulty from wringing a confession from theman by violence. For many moments he could not bring himself to broachthe subject of which his mind was so full. Everett, however, soon led tothe disappearance of the girl. 

"I'm glad you telephoned me so soon after your arrival, " saidBrimbecomb. "I was just starting for the station. If you hadn't, Ishouldn't have seen you. I had something to say to you. "

"And I have something to say to you, " said Horace, his eyes steadilyleveled at the man before him. "Where is Fledra Cronk?"

Everett's confidence gave him a power that was not to be daunted by thisdirect question. 

"My dear fellow, " he replied calmly, "I don't exactly know where she is;but I can say that I've had a note from her father, telling me that shewas with him in New York, and safe. I suppose it won't be necessary totell you that she was not compelled to go?"

Horace whitened with suppressed rage. He was now convinced that thesuavity of his colleague concealed a craftiness he had never suspected, and he felt sure that Everett had taken advantage of his absence tostrike an underhanded blow. Banishing a desire to fell the other to thefloor and then choke the secret from him, he decided to ply all thecraft of his profession, and draw the knowledge from Brimbecomb by aseries of pertinent queries. 

"May I see the communication you have received from Cronk?"

Everett seemed to have expected the question; for he made a bravepretense of looking through his wallet for the fictitious letter. Hetook up the space of several minutes, arranging and rearranging thedocuments. Then, as he looked at Horace, a paper fluttered to the floor, unobserved by him. 

"On second thought, " said he, "I think it wouldn't be quite right toshow you a private letter from one of my clients. I have told you enoughalready. I'm sorry, but it's impossible for me to let you see it. "

Everett mentally congratulated himself upon his diplomacy, while Horacebit his lip until it was ridged white. In his disappointment he castdown his eyes, and then it was that his attention was called to thepaper Brimbecomb had dropped on the floor. He changed his position, andwhen he came to a standstill his foot was planted squarely on the paper. For a moment Horace was under the impression that Everett had seen himcover the letter; but the unruffled egotism on the face of the otherbetrayed no suspicion. 

"Who ordered the withdrawal of the deputy?" Horace demanded. 

Everett knew that the lies he told would have to be consistent; so herepeated what he had said to Ann. 

"I don't know, " Everett said. "I didn't. "

Horace gazed at his companion for several seconds. 

"Something tells me that you're lying, " he said finally. 

An evil change of expression was the only external sign of Brimbecomb'slonging to throttle Horace. 

"A compliment, I must say, my dear Shellington, " he said; "and the onlyreason I have for not punching you is--Ann. "

The other's eyes narrowed ominously. 

"Ann is the one who is keeping me from thumping you, Brimbecomb. If youknow anything of Fledra Cronk, I want you to tell me. "

"I've told you all I know, " Everett answered. 

"For Ann's sake, I hope you've told me the truth; but, if you haven't, and have done anything to my little girl, then God protect you!"

The last words were uttered with such emotional decision that Everett'sfirst real fear rose within him. With difficulty he held back a torrentof words by which he might exonerate himself. Instead, he said:

"Some day, Shellington, you'll apologize to me for your impliedaccusation. You have taken--"

"Pardon me, " Horace interrupted, "but I must ask you to leave. I'm goingto Governor Vandecar. "

No sooner had his visitor closed the door than Horace stooped and pickedup the paper from under his foot. Going to the window, he opened thesheet, smoothed it out, and read:

 "_Mr. Brimbecomb_. --

 "I told you I got the letter you wrote me, and you know I can't ever love you. I hate your kisses--they made me lie to Sister Ann, and I couldn't tell Brother Horace how it happened. I am going back to Lem and Pappy Lon to Ithaca because you and Pappy Lon said as how I must or they would kill Brother Horace. But I hate you, I hate you--and I will always hate you. 

 FLEDRA CRONK. "

Like a brand of fire, every word seared the reader's brain. As his handcrushed the letter, Horace's head dropped down on his arm, and deep sobsshook him. The girl had gone for his sake, and was now bravingunspeakable dangers to save him from an evil trumped up by his enemies. Tense-muscled, he sprang to his feet and rushed into the hall. 

"My God! What a fool I've been! Ann, Ann! Here, read this!" His words, pronounced in a voice unlike his own, were almost incoherent. He threwthe paper at the trembling girl, as he continued, "Brimbecomb dropped iton the floor. Now I think Governor Vandecar will help me! I'm going toIthaca!"

With the letter held tightly in her hands, the woman read over twice thepitiful denunciation; then, tearless and strong, she went to herbrother. 

"What--what are you going to do for her first, Dear?"

"I must go to Albany and see the governor. "

 * * * * *

In the flurry of the departure little more was said, and before an hourhad passed Horace Shellington had taken the train for Albany. He hadinstructed Ann to tell Floyd what had induced Fledra to leave them, andAnn lost no time in communicating the contents of the littletear-stained letter written to Everett. 

Later in the day Ann received a telegram from her brother in which shelearned that he had missed the governor, who was on his way toTarrytown. Horace said, also, that he himself was starting for Ithaca byway of Auburn. Ann sat down beside Floyd and read the message to him. 

"Did he say, " asked the boy, "that the governor was comin' here toTarrytown?"

"Yes. "

For many moments Floyd lay deep in thought. 

"I'm goin' to Governor Vandecar's myself. If he's the big man ye say heis, then he can help us. Get me my clothes, Sister Ann. "

"It won't do any good, Floyd, " argued Ann. "Governor Vandecar has alwaysthought that your father ought to have his children. He doesn't realizehow you've suffered through him. "

"I'm goin', anyway, " insisted Floyd doggedly. "Get my clothes, SisterAnn. I can walk. "

"No, you mustn't walk, Deary, you can't; we'll drive. But I wish youwouldn't go out at all, Floyd. Do listen to me!"

"But I must go. Please, get my clothes. "

After brief, but vain, arguing, Ann yielded to Floyd's entreaties. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The governor, meditating in his library, was disturbed by a ring at thefront door. The servant opened it, and he heard Miss Shellington's voicewithout. 

In a moment Ann entered, white and flurried. 

"I want you to pardon me, Floyd, " she begged, "but that boy of oursinsisted upon coming to see you. He would have come alone, had I refusedto accompany him. Will you be kind to him for my sake? He is somiserable over his sister!"

Vandecar clasped her extended hands and smiled upon her. 

"I'll be kind to him for his own sake, little friend. Mrs. Vandecar toldme of her talk with Horace over the telephone, and I was awfully sorryto have missed him. But the little boy, where is he?"

Miss Shellington threw open the door, and Vandecar's gaze fell upon atall boy, straight and slim, who pierced him with eyes that startled himinto a vague apprehension. He did not utter a word--he seemed to bechoked as effectually as if strong fingers were sunk into his throat. 

Floyd loosened his hands from Ann's and stepped forward. 

"I'm Flukey Cronk, Sir, " he broke forth, "and Pappy Lon Cronk stole mysister Flea, and he's goin' to give her to Lem Crabbe to be his woman, and Lem won't marry her, either. Will ye help me to get her back?Brother Horace said as how ye could. Pappy Lon's a thief, too, and so isLem. If ye'd see Lem Crabbe, ye'd help my sister. "

Ann saw two pairs of mottled brown eyes staring at each other, and, asshe listened to Floyd's petition, the likeness of the boy to the manstruck her forcibly. The expression that swept over Governor Vandecar'sface frightened her, and she held her breath. But quicker than hers hadbeen the thoughts of the man. He staggered at the name of "Lon Cronk, "and his mind coursed back to a heart-rending scene, to hear again thedeep voice of a big-shouldered thief pleading for a sick woman. Again hesaw the huge form of the squatter loom up before him, and heard oncemore the frantic prayer for a week's freedom. He had not taken his eyesfrom the boy's, and a weakening of his knees compelled him to grip theback of the chair for support. With a voice thickened to huskiness, hestammered:

"What--what did you say your father's name was, boy?"

"Lon Cronk, Sir--and he's the worst man ye ever see. I bet he's theworst man in the state--only Lem Crabbe! He beat my sister, and weremakin' me a thief. "

Governor Vandecar dropped into his desk-chair. For a space of time hisface was concealed from Ann and Floyd by his quivering hand. When helooked up, the joy in his eyes formed a strange contrast to Ann'stearful face. Floyd, thinking the change in the governor boded well forFledra, advanced a step. 

"Sit down, boy, " said the governor in a voice that was still hoarse. "Now, then, answer me a few questions. Did your father ever live inSyracuse?"

"Yep, me and Flea were born there. "

"How old are you?"

"Comin' sixteen. "

"And your sister? Tell me about her. Is she--how old is she?"

"We be twins, " replied Floyd steadily. 

The girl, watching the unfolding of a life's tragedy, was silent even tohushing her breathing. The truth was slowly dawning upon her. How wellshe knew the story of the kidnapped children! How often had her ownheart bled for the tender mother, spending endless days in vainmourning! She saw Governor Vandecar stand, saw him sway a little, andthen turn toward the door. 

"Governor, Governor!" she called tremulously, "I feel as if I were goingto faint. Oh, can't you see it all? Where is Mrs. Vandecar?"

"Stay, Ann, stay! Wait! Boy, have you ever had any reason to believethat you were not the son of Lon Cronk?" Through fear of making amistake, he had asked this question. He knew that, should he plant falsehope in the timid mother he had shielded for years, she would be unableto bear it. 

"Nope, " replied Floyd wonderingly; "only that he hated me and Flea. Hewere awful to us sometimes. "

"There can be no mistake, " Ann thrust in. "He looks too much like you, and the girl is exactly like him.... Oh, Floyd!"

Vandecar extended his arms, and, with a sob that shook his soul, drewhis boy to him. 

"You're not Cronk's son, " he said; "you're mine!... God! Ann, you'llnever know just how I feel toward you and Horace. You've made me yourlife debtor; but, of course--of course, I didn't know, did I?" Then, startled by a new thought, he realized Floyd. "But my girl!"

"Horace has gone for her, " Ann cried. 

"And I will follow him, " groaned Vandecar. "Horace--and he could notinterest me in my own babies! If I'd helped him, my little girl wouldn'thave been taken away!"

In the man's breakdown, Ann's calm disappeared. Unable to restrain hertears, she fluttered about, first to Floyd, then to his father, kissingthe boy again and again, assuring and reassuring the governor. 

"Just remember, " she whispered, bending over the sobbing man, "Horaceloves her better than anything in the world. Listen, Floyd! He's goingto marry her. Don't you think he'll do everything in his power to saveher?... Don't--don't sob that way!"

Of a sudden Vandecar leaped to his feet. Brushing a lock of white hairfrom his damp brow, he turned to Floyd. 

"Before I do anything else, I must take you to your mother. "

"But ain't ye goin' for Flea?" demanded Floyd. 

"Of course, I am going for my girl, " cried Vandecar, "as fast as a traincan take me!" He turned suddenly and placed his firm hands on the boy'sshoulders. "Before I take you upstairs, boy, listen to me! You've alittle mother, a sick little mother who has mourned you and your sisterfor years. I'm going to leave her with you while I'm gone for yoursister. Your mother is ill, and--and needs you!"

Still more interested in his absent sister than in his newly foundparent, Floyd put in:

"I'll do anything ye say, if ye'll go for Flea. "

Ann touched the father's arm gently. 

"Come upstairs now. "

 * * * * *

Mrs. Vandecar was alone when her husband entered. She was sitting nearthe window, her eyes pensive and sad. The governor advanced a step, thrusting back the desire to blurt out the truth. The woman glanced intohis eyes, and the change there brought her to her feet. Her face paled, and she put out her slender, trembling hands. 

"There's something the matter, Floyd.... What's--what's happened?... Iheard the bell ring. "

In an instant he crushed her to him, and in an agitated voice whisperedgently:

"Darling, can you stand very good news--very, very good news, indeed?... No, no; if you tremble like that, I sha'n't tell you. It's only when youpromise me--"

"I promise, I promise, Floyd! Is it anything about our--our children?"

"Yes--I have found them!"

How many times for lesser things had she fainted! How many hours had shelain too weak to speak! He expected her now to evince her frail spirit. He felt her shiver, felt her muscles tighten, until she seemed to growtaller as he held her. Then she drooped a little, as if afraid. Dazedlyshe brushed back her tumbled hair, her eyes flashing past him in thedirection of the door. 

"Bring--bring them--to--me!" she breathed. 

Just how to explain her daughter's danger pressed heavily upon him. Hedared not picture Lon Cronk or the man Floyd had described. To gain amoment, he said:

"I will, Dear; but only one of them is here. The other one--"

"Which one is here?"

"The boy, Sweetheart, our own Floyd. "

Although she was shaking like a leaf, Vandecar saw that she was notfainting, and when she struggled to be free he released her. Shestaggered a little, and said helplessly:

"Then, why--why don't you bring--him to me?"

"I will, if you'll sit down and let me tell you something. " He kneltbeside her and spoke tenderly:

"Sweetheart, our children have been near us for months. They came to Annand Horace--"

Fledra Vandecar gave a glad little cry. 

"It was he, then, the pretty boy that prayed! Oh, Floyd, something toldme! But you said he was here alone. Where is my girl?"

"That's what I want to tell you, Fledra. Look at me, dear heart. "

The eyes, wandering first from his face, then to the door, fell uponhim. They seemed to demand the truth, and he dared not utter a lie toher. 

"By some crooked work, which Everett and the squatter--"

His words brought back Horace's story. A strange horror paled her cheeksand widened her eyes. 

"That man, the one who called himself her father, took her back toIthaca. Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

As she attempted to rise, Vandecar pushed her gently back into the chairand said:

"I'm going for her, Beloved, and Horace has already gone--Wait--wait!"

Vandecar was at the door in an instant, and when he opened it Annappeared, leading Floyd by the hand. Mrs. Vandecar's eyes fastenedthemselves upon the boy, and, when Ann pushed him toward her, she roseand held out her arms. 

Floyd was taller than she, and he stood considering her calmly, almostcritically. He had been told by Miss Shellington that he would see hismother, and as he looked a hundred things tore through his mind in asingle instant. This little woman, with fluttering white hands extendedtoward him, was his--his very own! He felt suddenly uplifted with amasculine desire to protect her. She looked so tiny, so frail! He wasfilled with strength and power, and so glad was his heart that it sangloudly and thumped until he heard a buzzing behind his ears. Suddenly heblurted out:

"I'd a known ye were mine if I'd a met ye any place!"

Governor Vandecar hurriedly left them and telephoned for a special trainto take him to Ithaca. He entered his library and summoned Katherine. Hetalked long to her in low tones, and when he had finished he put his armabout the weeping girl and said softly:

"And you'll come with us, Katherine, dear, and help me bring back mygirl? I shall ask Ann to go with us. "

"Oh, uncle, dear, you know I will go! And, oh, how glad I am that you'vefound them!"

"Thank you, child. Now, if you'll run away and make the necessarypreparations, we'll start immediately. "

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

During the days of the passage through the Erie Canal, Fledra hadremained on the deck of the scow when it was light. The spring days werebeautiful, too beautiful to be in accord with her sadness. Yet only whenthey entered into Cayuga Lake did acute apprehension rise within her. They were now in familiar waters, and she knew the end would soon come. At every thought of Lem, Fledra shuddered; for never did his eyes restupon her, nor did he approach her, but that she felt the terror of hispresence--the sight of him sent a wave of horror through her. Much asshe dreaded the wrath of Cronk, much more did she fear Crabbe's eyes, when, half-covered with squinting lids, they pierced her like gimlets. Snatchet was her only comfort, and she lavished infinite affection uponhim. Night crowded the day from over Cayuga, and still Fledra andSnatchet remained in the corner, near the top of the stairs. The girlwatched pensively the lights upon the hills lose their steadiness, asthe scow drew farther away from them, until with a final twinkle theydisappeared into the darkness behind. The churning of the tug'spropeller dinned continually in Flea's ears; but was not loud enough tomake inaudible the sound of a footstep. Lon came to the top of thestairs; but did not speak. He shuffled to the boat's bow, and with amighty voice bawled to Burnes:

"Slack up a little, Middy! I want to come aboard the tug. "

The words floated back to Fledra, and she half-rose, but again sank tothe deck. Lon was leaving her alone with Lem! The tug stopped, and themomentum of the barge sent it close to the little steamer. When the gapbetween the boats was not too wide, Lon sprang to the stern of the tug, and again Middy's small craft pulsated with life, and again the ropestretched taut between the two vessels. 

As the gloom of the night deepened, Fledra could no more discern theoutline of the steamer ahead, only its stern light disclosing itsposition. For some moments she scarcely dared breathe. Suddenly a lightburst over the crest of the hills opposite, and the edge of the moon'sdisk rose higher and higher, until the glowing ball threw its soft, palelight over Cayuga and the surrounding country. Once more the tug tookform, and the deck of the scow was revealed to the girl in all itsmurkiness. Shaking with anxiety, she allowed her eyes to rove aboutuntil they riveted themselves upon two glittering spots peering at herover the top step from the shadow of the stairway. A low growl fromSnatchet did not disturb the fascination the evil eyes held for her. Itseemed as if goblin hands reached out to touch her; as if supernaturalobjects and evil human things menaced her from all sides. The crouchingfigure of the scowman became more distinct as he sneaked over the topstep and edged toward her. A sudden morbid desire came over the girl tothrow herself into the water. She rose unsteadily to her feet, withSnatchet still clutched in her arms. She threw one appealing glance atthe tug--then, before she could cry out or move, Lem was at her side. 

"Don't ye so much as open yer gab, " he muttered, "or I'll hit ye withthis!"

The steel hook was held up dangerously near her face, and the threat ofit rendered her dumb. 

"Yer pappy be a playin' me dirt, and I won't let him. Ye're goin' to bemy woman, if I has to kill ye! See?"

No sign of help came to the girl from the tug, nor dared she force a cryfrom her lips. 

"Yer pappy says as how I can't marry ye, " went on Lem, in the samewhisper, "and I don't give a damn about that--- only, ye don't leavethis scow to go to no hut! Ye stay here with me!"

Fledra had wedged herself more tightly into the corner, hugging thesnarling Snatchet closer. As she backed, the scowman came nearer, hishot breath flooding her face. 

"Put down that there dorg!" he hissed. Snatchet did not cease growling, and the baring of his teeth sent Lem back a step or two. "If he bitesme, Flea, I'll knock his brains clean plumb out of him!"

With this threat, the scowman came to her again, stretching out his lefthand to touch her. Snatchet sent out a bark that was half-yelp andhalf-growl, and before the man could withdraw his fingers the dog hadburied his teeth deep in them. With a wrathful cry, the scowman jumpedback, then lunged forward, wrenched the dog from Fledra's arms, andpitched him over the edge of the barge into the lake. The girl heard thedog give a frightened howl, and saw the splash of water in the moonlightas he fell. 

He was all she had--a yellow bit she had taken with her from thepromised land, a morsel of the life that both she and Floyd loved. Witha shove that sent Lem backward, she freed herself and peered over theside. Snatchet had come to the surface, and in his vain effort to reachthe scow his small paws were making large watery rings, which contortedthe reflection of the moon strangely. He seemed so little, so powerlessin the vast expanse, that Fledra, forgetful of her skirts and thehandicap they would put upon her, leaped from the scow. Lem saw thewater close over her head, and for many seconds only little bubbles andripples disturbed that part of the lake where her body had sunk. Aninstant he stood hesitant, then he rushed to the bow. 

"Lon, Lon!" he roared. "Flea's jumped overboard!"

The churning of the tug suddenly stopped, and the canalman saw Lon's bigbody pass through the moonlight into the water. 

The scow was soon close to the tug, and together Lem and Middy Burnesexamined the lake's surface for a sight of the man and the girl. Manyminutes passed. Then a shout from the rear sent Lem running to the sternof the scow which was now at a standstill. He looked down, and on Lon'sarm he saw Fledra, pressing Snatchet against her breast. With his otherhand the squatter was clinging to the rudder. 

"Here she is!" Cronk called. "Grab her up, Lem!"

The scowman relieved Lon of his burden and carried the half-drowned girlbelow, whither the squatter, dripping with water, quickly followed. Snatchet was directly in his path, and he kicked the dog under thetable. At the yelp, Fledra lifted her head, and Lon bent over her. 

"What'd ye jump in the lake for, Flea?" he asked. 

Still somewhat dazed, Fledra failed to answer. 

"Were ye meanin' to drown yer self?"

The girl shook her head, and glanced fearfully at Lem. "Were ye aworryin' her, Lem Crabbe?" demanded the squatter hoarsely. 

"I were a tryin' to kiss her, " growled Lem. "A man can kiss his ownwoman, can't he? And that dog bit me. Look at them fingers!" Through thedim candlelight Lem's sullenness answered the dark look that Lon threwon him. 

"I don't give a damn for yer fingers, " Lon snarled, "and she ain't yerwoman yet, and she wouldn't be nuther, if ye weren't the cussedest manlivin'. Now listen while I tell ye this: If ye don't let that gal be, ye'll never get her, and I'll smack yer head off ye, if I has to saythat again! Do ye want me to say that ye can't never have her?"

"Nope, " cowered Lem. 

"Then mind yer own business and get out of this here cabin! I'll see toFlea. "

Fledra had faith that Lon Cronk would do as he promised. How often hadthere come to her mind the times when she was but a little girl thesquatter had said when he would whip her, and she had waited inshivering terror through the long day until the big thief returnedhome--he never forgot his anger of the morning. Fledra winced as herimagination brought back the deliberate blows that had fallen upon herbare skin, and tears rushed to her lids at the memory of Floyd's cries, when he, too, had suffered under the strength of the powerful squatter. She was glad she could now at least rest free from Lem until the hut wasreached, and then, if only something should happen to soften Cronk'sheart, how hard she would work for him!

 * * * * *

The next morning the barge approached the squatter settlement, andFledra was once more on deck. She wondered what Floyd had said when hereceived her letter, and if he believed that she had gone of her ownfree will. What had Ann said--and Horace? The thought of her lovercaused bitter tears to rain between her fingers. But she stifled hersobs, and a tiny, happy flutter brightened her heart when she thought ofhow she had saved them all. Below she heard a conversation between Lemand Lon, and listened. 

She first heard the voice of the squatter: "It's almost over, Lem, andthen we'll go back to stealin' when ye get Flea. She can be a lot of useto us. "

"But what ye goin' to say to that feller if he comes up tomorry?"

"He can go to hell!" growled Cronk. 

"And ye won't give the gal to him?"

"Nope. "

In her fancy Fledra could see Lon draw the pipe from his lips to mutterthe words to Lem. 

"If ye take his money, Lon, " gurgled Lem, "ye might have to fight withhim if he don't get Flea. "

The listening girl crept to the staircase and strained her ears. 

"I kin fight, " replied Lon laconically. 

When, next day, the tug came to a standstill in front of the rocks nearthe squatter's hut, Fledra went forward and touched Lon's arm. Her eyesrested a moment upon him, before she could gather voice to say:

"Will you let me stay with you, Pappy Lon, for a few days?"

"I'll let ye stay till I tell ye to go, " growled Lon, "and I don't wantno sniveling, nuther. "

"When are you going to tell me to go?"

"When I like. Middy's gittin' the skiff ready to take ye out. Scootthere, and light a fire in the hut! Here be the key to the padlock. "

Fledra's heart rose a little with hope. He had not said that she had togo with Lem that day. After she had been rowed to the shore, she wentslowly to the shanty, with a prayer upon her lips. She had no thoughtthat Horace would try to save her, or that he would be able to keep herfrom Lem and Lon. She prepared the breakfasts for Cronk and Crabbe andfor Middy with his two helpers. During the meal four pairs of eyeslooked at the slim, lithe form as it darted to and fro, doing the manytasks in the littered hut. Lon Cronk was the only one not to lift hishead as she passed and repassed. He sat and thought moodily by thefire. At last he did lift his head, and Fledra's solemn gray eyes, fixedgravely upon him, made the squatter ill at ease. 

"What ye lookin' at?" he growled. "Keep your eyes to hum, and quit astaring at me!" Fledra shrank back. "And I hate ye in them glad rags!"Lon thundered out. "Jerk 'em off, and put on some of them togs of GrannyCronk's! Yer a squatter, and ye'd better dress and talk like one! Do yehear?"

"Yes, Pappy Lon, " murmured Fledra, dropping her eyes. 

"I ain't said yet when ye was to go to Lem's hut; but, when I do, don'tye kick up no row, and ye'd best do as Lem tells ye, or he'll take thesass out of yer hide!"

"I wish I could stay with you, " ventured Fledra sorrowfully; but to thisLon did not reply. After breakfast she was left alone in the hut, andshe could hear the loud talking of the tugmen and see Lem working on thescow. 

Soon Middy Burnes' tug steamed away toward Ithaca, and Fledra knew thatshe was alone with no creature between her and Lem but Lon Cronk. 

When Lon and Lem returned, the hut was tidy. Fledra had hoped that ifshe made it so Lon might want her to stay. She could be of much useabout the shanty. Neither of the men spoke for awhile, and Fledra heldher peace, as she sat by the low hut-window and gazed thoughtfully outupon the lake. In the distance she could see the east shore but dimly. Several fishing boats ran up the lake toward town. A flock of springbirds swept breezily over the water and sought the shade of the forest. Suddenly Lem rose up, stretched his legs, yawned, and said:

"I'm goin' out, Lon, and I'll be back in a little while. Ye'd best be athinkin' of what I said, " he cautioned, "and keep yer eyes skinned fortravelers. "

"All right. Don't be gone long, Lem, " responded Lon. Fledra was not tooabstracted to notice the uneasy tone in the squatter's voice. 

"Nope; I'm only goin' up the hill. "

Lem had decided to reconnoiter for Scraggy. He was filled with a fearthat she might be dead; for he had left her in the hut unconscious. Heclimbed the hill, and, rounding her shanty, drew nearer, and peeped intothe window. A piece of bread lying on the table, and a few embersburning on the grate bolstered up his hope that he had not committedmurder. He drew a sigh of relief. 

 * * * * *

Presently, after the departure of Lem, Lon stirred his feet, draggedhimself up in the chair, and turned upon the girl. Her heart beat wildlywith hope. If he would allow her to stay in the hut with him, she wouldask nothing better. His consent would come as a direct answer to prayer. How hard she would work if Floyd and Horace were safe! Cronk coughedbehind his hand. 

"Flea, turn yer head 'bout here; I want to talk to ye, " he said. 

The girl got up and came to his side. She was a pathetic little figure, drooping in great fear, and hoping against hope that he would spare her. She had dressed as he had ordered, and at her feet dragged a worn skirtof Granny Cronk's. With trembling fingers she hitched the calico blouseup about her shoulders. 

"Flea, " said Lon again, "ye came home when I said ye was to, and yepromised that ye'd do what I said, didn't ye?"

"Yes. "

"And ye remember well that I promised ye to Lem afore ye went away. Istill be goin' to keep that promise to Lem. "

The bright blood that had swept her face paced back, leaving her ashenpale. She did not speak, but swayed a little, and supported herself onthe top of his chair. Feeling her nearness, he shifted back, and thesmall hand fell limply. 

"Before ye go to Lem, " pursued Lon, "I want to tell ye somethin'. " StillFledra did not speak. "Ye know that it'll save Flukey, if ye mind me, and that it don't make no difference if ye don't like Lem. "

"Wouldn't it have made any difference if my mother hadn't loved you, Pappy Lon?"

The question shot out in appeal, and Lon's swarthy face shadowed darkly. 

"I never loved yer mother, " he drawled, sucking hard upon his pipe. 

"Then you loved another woman, " went on Flea bitterly, "because I heardyou tell Lem about her. Would you have liked a man to give her to--Lem?"

As quick as lightning in the smoke came the ghost-gray phantom, approaching from a dark corner of the shanty. Lon's eyes were strainedhard, and Fledra saw them widen and follow something in the air. Shedrew back afraid. The man was staring wildly, and only he knew why hegroaned, as the wraith in the pipe-smoke broke around him and driftedaway. Fledra brought him back by repeating:

"Would ye have liked to have had Lem take her, Pappy Lon?"

"I'd a killed him, " muttered Lon, as if to himself. "But ye, Flea, " herehe rose and brought down his fist with a bang, "ye go where I send ye!The woman's dead. If she wasn't, ye wouldn't have to go to Lem. "

To soften him, Fledra knelt down at his feet. 

"Pappy Lon, " she pleaded, "you haven't got her, anyhow, and you haven'tgot anybody but me. If you let me stay--"

How he hated her! How he would have liked to bruise the sweet, upturnedface, marking the white cheeks with the impressions of his fists! But hedared not. She would run away again--and to Lem he had given theopportunity to drag her to fathomless depths. 

Fledra misread his thoughts, and said quickly:

"I wouldn't care if you beat me every day, Pappy Lon--only let me stay. I'll work for my board. And won't you tell me about the other woman--Idon't mean my mother. "

Then a diabolical thought flashed into the man's mind. He, too, couldmake her suffer, even before she went to Lem. A smile twisted his lips, and he said slowly:

"Yer mother ain't dead, Flea. "

"Not dead!"

"Nope, she ain't dead. "

"Then where is she?"

"None of yer business!"

Fledra clenched her hands and paled in terror. A mother somewhere livingin the world, a woman who, if she knew, would not let her be sacrificed, who would save her from Lem, and from her father, too!

"Lon, Lon!" she cried, springing forward in desperation. "Do you knowwhere she is? I want to know, too. "

He flung her away, a grunt of satisfaction coming from his throat. 

"And I ain't yer daddy, nuther. "

"Then you're not Flukey's father, either?" she whispered. 

"Nope; yer pappy and mammy both be livin' and waitin' fer ye. They'vebeen lookin' fer ye fer years--and yet they'll never git ye. Do yehear, Flea? I hate 'em both so that I could kill ye--I could tear yerthroat open with these!" The squatter put his strong, crooked fingers inthe girl's face. 

A sudden resolution pumped the blood to the girl's cheeks. 

"I'm not going to stay here!" was all she said. 

Lon lifted his fist and stood up. 

"Where ye goin'?"

"Back to Tarrytown. "

She was standing close to him, her blazing eyes daring him to strikeher. 

"What about Flukey?"

"You couldn't have him, either, if--if he isn't yours. "

Lon walked to the door and opened it. 

"Scoot if ye want to--I don't care. But ye'll remember that I'll killthat sick kid, Fluke, and Lem'll put an end to the Tarrytown duffer whatloves ye. I hate him, too!"

Fledra dropped to the floor as if he had struck her. 

For some moments her senses were gone, and she opened her eyes only whenLon, vaguely alarmed, threw water in her face. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Cronk entered the scow sullenly and sat down. Lem was sitting at thetable, bending over a tin basin in which he was washing his bittenfingers. The steel hook and its leather strappings lay on the table. 

"I telled Flea, " said the squatter after a silence. 

"Did ye tell her she was comin' to my boat tonight?" asked Lem eagerly. 

"Nope; but I telled her that she weren't my gal. "

"Ye cussed fool!" cried Crabbe, jumping to his feet. "Ye won't keep hernow, I bet that!"

Cronk smiled covertly. 

"Aw, don't ye believe it! She be as safe stuck in that hut as if I'dnailed her leg to the floor. Ye don't know Flea, ye don't, Lem. Shedidn't come back with us 'cause she were my brat, but 'cause we wasgoin' to kill Flukey and Shellington. God! how she w'iggled when Iopened the door and telled her to scoot back to Tarrytown if she wantedto! But I didn't forgit to tell her what we'd do to them two others downthere, if she'd go. She floundered down and up like a live sucker in ahot skillet. What a plagued fool she is!"

Lon sat back in his chair and laughed loudly. 

"Ye'll play with her till ye make her desprite, " snarled Lem, "and whenshe be gone ye can holler the lungs out of ye, and she won't come back. If ye'd left her to me, I'd a drubbed her till she wouldn't think ofTarrytown. I says as how she comes to this scow tonight. Ye can't dickerwith me like ye can with that kid, Lon!"

Cronk narrowed his eyelids to slits and contemplated the scowman. 

"I want to have a little fun with her afore ye git her, " he said. "Ilove to see her damn face go white and red, and her teeth shut tightlike a rat-trap. She won't do none of them things when you git done withher, Lem. "

Crabbe rubbed the length of his short arm with a coarse towel. 

"Yep, I can make her forgit that she's got blood what'll come in herface, " chuckled he. "'Tain't no fun ownin' women, if ye can't make 'emholler once in awhile. But ye didn't say as how she were a comin' heretonight. "

"Nope, not tonight, " answered Lon; "'cause when I showed her that itdidn't make no difference 'bout her stayin' whether she were mine ornot, she just tumbled down like a hit ox. My! but it were a fine sight!"

Lem lifted the steel hook in deep reflection and caught the claspstogether. 

"I'm a wonderin', Lon, " he said presently, "if I'm to ever git her. "

"Yep, tomorry, " assured Lon. 

"Honest Injun?" demanded Lem. 

"Honest Injun, " replied Lon. "If ye takes her tonight, she'll only cutup like the devil. That's the worst of them damn women, they be tootechy when they come of stock like her. "

"I like 'em when they're techy--it ain't so easy to make 'em do what aman wants 'em to as 'tis t'other kind--say like Scraggy. I love a galwhat'll spit in yer face. God! what a lickin' Flea'll git, if she triesany of them fine notions of her'n on me! For every kiss Shellingtongived her, I'll draw blood outen her hide!" Lem paused in his work, andthen added in a stammering undertone, "But I love the huzzy!"

The other bent far forward to catch the scowman's words, delighting inthe mental picture of Fledra's lithe body writhing under the lash. Theproud spirit of the girl would break under the physical pain!

 * * * * *

Fledra was still lying on the bed when Lon returned to the hut. 

"Git up and git supper!" Cronk growled in her ear. 

Mechanically she rose, sliced a few cold potatoes into the skillet, andarranged the table for one person. 

"Put down two plates!" roared the squatter. 

"I can't eat, Lon, " Flea said in a whisper. 

He noticed that she had dropped the paternal prefix. 

"Put down another plate, I say!" he shouted. "Ye be goin' to Lem'stomorry, and ye'll go tonight if ye put on any airs with me! See?"

Fledra placed a plate for herself, and sat down opposite Lon. Choking, she crushed the food into her mouth and swallowed it with effort. Foreven one night's respite she would suffer anything!

 * * * * *

After the dishes were cleared away Fledra knelt by the open window, andpeered out upon the water. She turned tear-dimmed eyes toward thecollege hill, and allowed her mind to travel slowly over the road sheand Floyd had taken in September. Rapidly her thoughts came to theShellington home, and she imagined she saw her brother and Horacelistening to Ann as she read under the light of the red chandelier. Howhappy they all looked, how peaceful they were--and by her gift! Shebreathed a sigh as the shadows crept long over the darkening lake. 

She glanced at the clock, and counted from its dial the hours untilmorning. She wished that the sun would never rise; that some unexpectedthing would snatch her from the hut before the night-shades disappearedinto the dawn. Cronk moved, and the girl turned with a startled face. How timid she had grown of late! She remembered distinctly that at onetime she had loved the chirp of the cricket, the mournful croak of themarsh frogs; but tonight they maddened her, filled her with an ominousfear such as she had never before felt. When Lon saved her fromdrowning, and had scathed Lem for his actions, she had hoped--oh, howshe had hoped!--that he would let her fill Granny Cronk's place. Sheglanced at the squatter again. 

Lon was staring out upon the lake with eyes somber and restless, eyesdarkening under thoughts that threshed through his brains like awhirlwind. He was face to face with a long-looked-for revenge. Throughthe pain of Flea he could still see that wraith woman who had hauntedhim all the past-shadowed years. He believed with all his soul that thenMidge would sink into his arms, silent in her spirit of thankfulness, and would always stay with him until he, too, should be called to joinher; for Lon had never once doubted that in some future time he would bewith his woman. If anyone had asked him during the absence of Flea andFlukey which one of them he would rather have had back in the hut, hewould undoubtedly have chosen the girl; for well he knew that she wascapable of suffering more than a boy. Still, he moved uneasily when hethought of the soft bed and the kindly hands that were ministering tothe son of his enemy. 

Suddenly the squatter dragged his pipe from his lips and said:

"Look about here, Flea!"

The girl turned her head. 

"What, Pappy Lon?" she questioned. 

"Keep yer mouth shet!" commanded Lon. "I'll do the talkin' fer thisshanty. "

Then, seeing her cowering spirit racked by fear, he grinned broadly. Fledra sank back. 

"I've always said as how I were a goin' to make money out of ye, andI've found a chance where, if Lem ain't a fool, he'll jine in, too. WillI tell ye?" Lon's question brought the dark head closer to him. "Yeneedn't speak if ye don't want to, " sneered he; "but I'll tell ye jestthe same! Do ye know who's goin' to own ye afore long?" Fledra'swidening eyes questioned him, while her lips trembled. "I can see thatye wants to find out. Does ye know a young fellow by the name ofBrimbecomb?" Observing that she did not make an effort to speak, Lonproceeded with a perceptible drawl. "Well, if the cat's got yer tongue, I'll wag mine a bit in yer stead. Brimbecomb's offered to buy ye, and, if Lem says that it'll be all right, then I says yep, too. "

Fledra found her voice uttering unintelligible words. She was slowlyadvancing on her knees toward the squatter, her face working intostrong, mature lines. 

"Jest keep back there, " ordered Lon, "and don't put on no guff with me!Ye can do as ye please 'bout goin' away. I won't put out my hand to keepye; only, remember, if ye go, what comes to the folks in Tarrytown! Now, then, did ye hear what I said about Brimbecomb?" Fledra nodded, hereyelids quivering under his stare. "Yer pretty enough to take the fancyof any man, Flea, and ye've took two, and it's up to 'em both to fightover ye. The man what pays most gits ye, that's all. "

The girl lifted one hand dazedly. 

"I'd rather go with Lem, " she muttered brokenly. 

"It don't make no matter to me what you'd ruther have. Ye go where yersent, and that's all. "

Only Fledra's sobs broke the silence of the next five minutes. She darednot ask Lon Cronk any questions. 

Presently, without warning, the man turned upon her. 

"He's a comin' here tonight, mebbe. "

"Ye mean--oh, Pappy Lon! Let me go to Lem! I'll go, and I won't say noword!... I'll go now!" She rose, her knees trembling. 

"Sit down!" Lon commanded. 

Used to obeying even his look, Fledra dropped back to the floor. 

"It ain't given to ye to go to Lem jest 'cause ye want to, " he said. "AsI says, that young feller is comin' here tonight to talk with me andLem. I already told him, that he could take ye; but Lem hain't yet givehis word. "

Fledra glanced out of the window at the scow. Lem was there, arrangingthe boat for her reception in his crude, homely way. She was sure thescowman would not give her up. The thought brought Ann more vividly intoher mind. If Everett came for her, and Lem held to his desire, MissShellington's happiness would be assured. The handsome young lawyerwould return to Tarrytown, back to the woman who loved him. 

Fledra rose with determination in her face. Suddenly Lem had loomedbefore her as a friend. She moved uneasily about the shanty, Lon makingno move to stay her. For awhile she worked aimlessly, with furtiveglances at Cronk. 

"Set down, Flea, " ordered Lon presently. "Ye give me the twitches. If yecan't set still, crawl to bed till, " he glanced her over, as she pausedto catch his words, --"till one of yer young men'll come to git ye. "

It was the chance Fledra had been longing for. She backed from himthrough the opening of Granny Cronk's room and closed the door. For oneminute she stood panting. Then she walked to the window, threw back thesmall sash, and slipped through. Once in the open air, she shot towardthe scow, and in another moment had scurried up the gangplank and intothe living-room. 

When he saw her, Lem's lips fell away from his pipe, and he rose slowlyand awkwardly; but no shade of surrender softened the hard linessettled about the mouth of the panting girl. 

"Lem, " she gasped, "has Pappy Lon said anything to ye about Mr. Brimbecomb?"

"Yep. "

"Are ye goin' to let me go with him?"

"Nope. "

"Will ye swear, Lem, that when he comes to the hut ye'll say that hecan't have me?"

Lem's jaw dropped, and he uttered a throat sound, guttural and rough. 

"Do ye mean, Flea, that ye'd rather come to the scow than go with theyoung, good-lookin' cuss?"

"Yes, that's what I mean; and Pappy Lon says he's comin'. "

Lem made a spring toward her. 

"Don't touch me now!" she cried, shuddering. "Don't--yet! I'm comin'back by and by. "

Before he could place his hands upon her, Fledra had gone down theplank. From the small boat-window Lem could discern the little figureflitting among the hut bushes; in another moment she had crawled throughthe open window into Lon's hut. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

When Everett arrived in Ithaca he made arrangements with the conductorof the local train running to Geneva to have it slow down at SherwoodsLane. 

A sudden jerk of the engine as it halted at the path that led to Lon'shut brought Brimbecomb to his feet, and he hurried from the car withmuttered thanks and a substantial consideration to the conductor. Whilethe train rumbled away in the distance, he stood in the shadow of alarge pine tree by the track and looked about to get his bearings. Suddenly he heard not far from him the faint, weird cry of an owl. Instantly he was on the alert; for there was something familiar in themelancholy sound. It took him back to a night in Tarrytown, when he hadcast a woman into the cemetery, and he remembered that she had said shelived in Ithaca. Superstition sent him deeper into the shadow for amoment; but he recovered himself and, shaking his shoulders, went hisway toward the lake with a muttered oath. 

So dense was the woodland bordering the path, and so dark was the shadowof the bushes in the twilight, that he had almost to feel his way downthe dark lane. He had not proceeded more than fifty yards when he saw alight gleaming through the underbrush from the opposite side of thegulch that ran parallel with the narrow road. He came to a path thatbranched in the direction of the light, and picked his way along it. Soon he crossed a primitive bridge and, climbing a little incline, paused before a dilapidated shanty. He knocked peremptorily on the door;but only a droning voice humming a monotonous tune made answer. Againhe knocked, this time harder. The singing ceased, and after a shufflingof feet the door opened. 

Standing before him, her hair bedraggled as it had been the first timehe saw her, was the woman who had claimed to be his mother, the woman hehad thrown into Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Brimbecomb, in his astonishment, almost fell back into the gulch. But he quickly gathered his scatteredwits and, forcing a face of effrontery, doffed his hat. 

"Can you tell me, " his agitation did not allow him to speakcalmly, --"can you tell me, please, where Lon Cronk lives?"

Although his question was low and broken, Scraggy caught each word. 

"Down to the edge of the lake, Mister, " she replied. "It's a goin' to bea dark night to be out in, ain't it?"

In his relief, Brimbecomb drew a long breath. She had not recognizedhim! The dim light of the candle showed him that the same dazedexpression still remained in her faded eyes. The smirk on her face, thecrouch of her emaciated figure, about which the rags swirled in thewind, the dismal hut, and the loneliness of her surroundings, made sucha picture of woe that Everett shuddered and hastened to get theinformation, that he might hurry away from the awful place. 

"Is there a scow down there that belongs to--"

"That there scow belongs to Lem Crabbe, " broke in Scraggy. "Yep, itcomed in this mornin'. Lem be a good man, a fine man, the bestest man yeever see. "

Brimbecomb took some money from his pocket and, placing it in herfingers, hurried away. 

 * * * * *

Fledra heard Everett when he came to Lon's shanty door and knocked. Sheheard the squatter call him by name. She knew now that the only hopefor Ann's love for Brimbecomb was that Lem would keep his word andinsist upon Lon's holding faith with him. 

Cronk ordered her roughly to come to him. When she appeared, the two menlooked at her keenly. As she evinced no surprise at his presence, thelawyer knew that she had been told of his coming. He made an attempt totake her hand; but, as once before, Fledra flung her arms behind her. 

"I 'low as she don't like ye, young feller, " said Lon, with a laugh. 

"Does it matter to you, Cronk?" retorted Brimbecomb. 

"Not a damned bit!"

"Then go and make your arrangements with your one-armed friend and leaveyour daughter here with me. "

"Ye be in too big a hurry, my fine buck! Lem ain't as willin' as I be;but I'll jest go down to the scow and speak with him. "

"I want to go with you, Pappy Lon, " cried Fledra. 

"Ye stay right here, gal, " commanded Cronk. Full in her face he slammedthe door and left her alone with Brimbecomb. 

Everett stood looking at her for fully a minute, and as steadily sheeyed him back. 

"I have come for you, " he said quietly. "I could not leave you withthese persons. "

Fledra curled her lip scornfully. 

"I lived with them a long time before I saw any of you folks, " she saidbitterly. 

The girl did not reason now. She knew that she must send him back, thatthis was her only way to repay the woman who had saved her brother. Soshe went up to Brimbecomb appealingly, her eager eyes gleaming intohis. 

"I want you to go back to Tarrytown, " she said, "and go toShellingtons', and see Sister Ann. She's dying to have you back. And youbelong to her, because you promised her, and she promised you. Will yougo back?"

"When I wish to, I will; but not yet, " muttered Everett. He had beentaken aback at her words, and at that moment could think of no way tocompromise with her. She was so near that he threw out his hands andcaught her. Forcibly he drew her face close to his, his lips whiteningunder the spell of her nearness. 

"Never, never will I let you go away from me again!" he was sayingpassionately, when Cronk opened the door and stepped in. 

The squatter gave no evidence that he had seen Everett's action. He leftthe door open, through which the breeze flung the dust and the deadleaves. 

"Lem'll see ye in the scow, " he said. "I ain't got nothin' to say 'boutthis--only as how Flea goes to one or the other of ye. "

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Not more than half an hour after Everett had reached Sherwoods Lane, Governor Vandecar's train came to a halt at the same place, and theparty, consisting of the governor, Ann Shellington, and KatherineVandecar, made ready to step out into the night. 

"Please draw up to the switch, " the governor instructed the conductor, "and I'll hail you as soon as we return. Keep an ear out for my call. "

"Yes, Sir, " replied the conductor; "but you'd better take thislantern--it's sure dark down by that lake, Sir. And you can signal mewith the light. "

Ann and Katherine clasped hands, and, aided by the light which Vandecarheld high, slowly followed him. So stern did the tall man seem in thedeep gloom that neither girl spoke to him as they stumbled down thehill. They halted with thumping hearts in sight of the dark lake. Allthree noticed a small light twinkling through the Cronk window, and, without knocking, Governor Vandecar flung wide the door of Lon's hut andstepped in. 

The squatter sat on the floor, whittling a stick; Fledra crouched by thewindow. As the door opened, she raised her eyes wonderingly; but whenshe saw a tall stranger she dropped them again--someone had lost his wayand needed Pappy Lon. Cronk looked up and, recognizing Vandecar, suddenly slid like a serpent around the hut wall until he was intouching distance of the girl. 

"Ye'd better not come any closer, Mister, " he said darkly. "I has this, ye see--and Flea's meat's as soft as a chicken's!" He raised his knifemenacingly; but dropped it slowly at sight of Ann and Katherine. 

"Sister Ann!" breathed Fledra. 

Ann's fingers grasped Vandecar's arm spasmodically; but, withoutglancing back at her, he shook them off. His brow had gathered deeplines at Lon's words, and now his unswerving gray eyes bent low to thesquatter. Under the steady gaze Cronk looked down and began to whittle. 

In after days Ann could always conjure up the picture before her. Fledralooked so infinitely young and melancholy, as her eyes fixed themselvesin wide terror upon Cronk. Out of the ragged blouse rose the proud, darkhead, and the lovely face was almost overshadowed by two tightlyclenched fists. Instead of falling into her arms, as Ann had imaginedshe would, the girl only sank lower to the floor, her face ghastly in anew horror. Miss Shellington's patience gave way as she stared atVandecar--his delay was imperiling Fledra's life; for, if ever a wickedface expressed hate and murder, the squatter's did now. She turnedappealing eyes to Katherine, and took a step forward; but the latterheld her and whispered:

"Wait, wait a moment, Ann! Wait until Uncle has spoken!"

The whisper broke the silence, and Fledra turned her eyes from Lon. Shewondered dazedly who the stranger was, and why he had come with Ann. Shethought of Horace, and a pain shot through her heart. She was aware thathis sister had come for her; but no thought entered her mind to give upthe yoke that would soon be too heavy to bear. Then Governor Vandecarbegan to speak, and Fledra looked at him. 

"I have come to take back my own, Lon Cronk, " said he, "that of whichyou robbed me many years ago. "

"I ain't nothin' that belongs to ye, and ye'd better go back where yecomed from, Mister--and don't--come no nearer!"

As the squatter spoke, his lips spread wide over his teeth, and he beganpicking up and laying down the bits of white wood. He did itdeliberately, and no one present imagined how the sight of Vandecar toreat his heartstrings. Cronk could tolerate no robbing him of his revenge, no taking away his chance of soothing the haunting spirit of his deadwoman. 

Again Ann touched the governor's arm. 

"Don't, Dear!" he said, pushing her back a little. "Lon Cronk--I want totell you--a story. "

Cronk made no response; only stooped over and gathered a few slenderwhittlings, and stacked them up among the others. There was an intense, biting silence, until the governor spoke again. 

"Nineteen years ago, when I lived in Syracuse, there came to me anopportunity to convict a man of theft. Then I was young and happy; Iknew nothing of deep misery, or of--deep love. " The hesitation on hislast words brought a shake from the squatter's shoulders. "This man, asI have said, was a thief, admitted his crime to me; but, at the time ofhis conviction, he pleaded with me that he might go home for a littlewhile to see his wife, who was ill. But of course I had no authority todo that. "

A dark shade flashed over Cronk's face, followed by one of awfulsuffering. 

"Yep, ye had, " he repeated parrot-like; "ye might have let him go. "

"But I couldn't, " proceeded the governor, "and the man was taken away toprison without one glance at the woman who was praying to see him. Forshe loved him more--than he did her. "

"That's a lie!" burst from Cronk's dry puckered lips. 

"I repeat, she loved him well, " insisted Vandecar; "for every breath shetook was one of love for him. "

In the hush that followed his broken sentence, Lon moved one big footoutward, then drew it back. 

"Afterward--I mean a few hours after the man was taken away--I began tothink of him and his agony--over the woman, and I went out to find her. She was in a little hut down by the canal, --an ill-furnished, one-roomshanty, --but the woman was so sweet, so little, yet so ill, that Ithought only of her. "

A dripping sweat broke from every pore in Lon's body, and drops of waterrolled down his dark face. He groped about for another stick of wood, asif blind. 

"She was too young, too small, Lon Cronk, for the cross she had tobear. "

Lon threw up his head. 

"Jesus! what a blisterin' memory!" he said. 

His throat almost smothered the words. Ann began to sob; but Katherinestood like a stone image, staring at the squatter. 

The governor's low voice went on again:

"She was sicker than any woman I'd ever seen before, and when I wasthere her little baby was born. I held her hands until she died. Iremember every message she sent you, Cronk. She told me to tell you howmuch she loved you, and how the thought of your goodness to her and yourlove would go down with her to the grave. If I could have saved her foryou, I should have done so; but she had to go. Then I wrote and askedyou if I should care for her body. "

An evil look overspread the squatter's face. The misty tears cleared, and he began to scrape again at the wood. He flashed a murderous lookupward. 

"Ye could have left her dead in the hut, as long as yer killed her!"said he. 

Not heeding the interruption, Vandecar went on:

"But you sent me no word, and, because I was sorry, and because--"

The knife slipped from Lon's stiffened fingers, and a long groan fellfrom his lips. 

"I didn't get no word from ye!" he burst out. "I didn't know nothin'till they told me she were dead. " The man's head dropped down on hischest. 

Relentlessly Vandecar spoke again:

"Because I could not give you to her when she wanted you, and becauseshe had suffered so, I took her body and placed it in our family plot. Iwent to the prison to tell you this, so that you could go to her gravewhenever you wished; but you had escaped the night before I arrivedthere, and I never associated you with my great loss. "

The revenge Cronk had planned upon this man suddenly lost its savorbefore the vividly drawn picture. He did not remember that Vandecar hadcome for his girl; he had in mind only the wee, sweet squatter woman solong dead. 

"Didn't the warden tell ye that I hit him, Mister, " he groaned, "andthat I smashed the keeper when they telled me about her, and--and thatthe strait-jacket busted my collarbone when I was tryin' to get out toher?"

Vandecar shuddered and shook his head; but before he could speak Cronkwailed dazedly:

"Ye might have come and telled me yerself, ye might a knowed how Iwanted ye to!"

"I told you that I did come and you were gone, " Vandecar answeredemphatically. 

"Ye didn't think how I loved her, how I'd a dreamed of huggin' my ownlittle brat!"

Vandecar interrupted again:

"I took the baby with me, Lon Cronk. " At the word "baby, " Lon draggedhis heavy hand backward across his eyes. "The baby, " continued thegovernor, "was no bigger than this, --a wee bit of a girl, such as allbig men love to father. "

The squatter stood rigidly up against the wall, until his head almostreached the ceiling. His fierce eyes centered themselves upon Vandecar. 

"If I'd a knowed, Mister, " he mumbled, "that ye'd took my little Midge'shand in yer'n, that ye soothed her when she was a howlin' fer me, Iwouldn't have cribbed yer kids--I'll be damned if I would 'ave! But Ihated ye--Christ! how I hated ye! I could only think how ye wouldn'thelp me. " He shuddered, wiped his wet lips, and went on, "After that Iwent plumb to hell. There weren't no living with me in prison, lessen Iwere strapped in the jacket till my meat were scorched. It seemed as howit made my hurt less for her to have my own skin blistered. Then, when Igot out of prison, I never once took my eyes offen ye, and when yerwoman gived ye Flea and Flukey--"

A cry from Fledra brought all eyes upon her save Lon's. 

"When yer woman gived ye the two kids, " he went on, "I let 'em stay longenough for ye to love 'em; then I stole 'em away. But, if I'd a knowedthat ye tooked mine--" He moved forward restlessly and almost whispered, "Mister, will ye tell me how the little 'un looked? And were it warm andsnuggly? Did ye let it lay ag'in' ye--and sleep?" The miserable, questioning voice rose in demand, but lowered again. "Did ye let it grabhold of yer fingers--oh, that were what I wanted more'n anythin' else!And that's why I stealed yours; so ye'd know what sufferin' was. If ye'donly telled me, Mister--if ye'd only telled me!"

Vandecar groaned--groaned for them all, no more for himself and for hisgentle wife than for the great hulk of a man wrestling in agony. Tearsrose slowly to his lids; but he dashed them away. 

"Cronk, " he cried, "Cronk, for God's sake, don't--don't! I've borne anawful burden all these years, and every time I've thought of her I'vethought of you and wondered where you were. "

"I were with my little woman in spirit, " the squatter interrupted, "whenI weren't tryin' to get even with you. Mister, will ye swear by God thatye telled me the truth about the baby?"

"I swear by God!" repeated Vandecar solemnly. 

"And I believe ye. I could a been good, if I'd a had the little kidawhile. It were a bit of her, a little, livin' bit. I could a been, butI wasn't, a good man. I loved to lash Flukey and Flea. I loved to makethe marks stand out on their legs and backs. And I tried to l'arn Flukeyto be a thief, and Flea were a goin' to Lem tomorry. It were the onlyway I lived--the only way!" Cronk trailed on as if to himself. "Thewoman camed and camed and haunted me, till my mind were almost gone, andI allers seed the little kid's dead face ag'in' her, and allers sheseemed to tell me to haggle the life outen yer kids; and haggle I did, till they runned away, and then I went after 'em, and Flea--"

Vandecar stopped the speaker with a wave of the hand. 

"Then you brought her back here, and I discovered that she was mine, andI came for her. Lon Cronk, you give me back my girl, and I'll, " hewhitened to the very lips, and repeated, --"and I'll give you backyours!"

With a sweep of the arm Vandecar pushed Katherine forward. The very airgrew dense with anxiety. Ann clutched Katherine by the arm as if to stayher movement, as if to keep her from the dazed squatter. His confessionof the kidnapping and his uncouth appearance forced Miss Shellington totry and protect her gentle friend from his contact. But Katherineloosened Ann's fingers in stony silence. Only a choking sound fromFledra broke the quietude. She was staring into Lon's face, and he wasflashing from her to Katherine glances that changed and rechanged likedark clouds passing over the heaven's blue. He saw Katherine, so likehis dead wife, bow her fair head before him. He noted her tremblingfingers pressed into pink palms, her slender body grow tense again andagain, relaxing only with spontaneous sobs. That he could touch thefragile young creature, that he might listen to the call of his heartand take her as his own, had not yet been fully forced upon him. Themeaning of Governor Vandecar's words seemed to leave his mind atintervals; then his expression showed that he realized the truth ofthem. He swayed forward; but crouched back once more against the wall. Fledra rose silently to her feet, her ready intelligence grasping thegreat fact that she was free, that the magnificent stranger had come forher, that he claimed her as his. She was free from Lem, from Lon, freeto go back to Flukey. Lem's menacing shadow had lifted slowly from herlife, cast away by her own blood. For an instant there rose rampant inher breast the desire to turn and fly, before another chance should begiven Lon to exert his authority over her. Then something snapped in herhead, and, unconscious, she sank noiselessly to the floor. No onenoticed her. She was like a small prey over which two great forcesruthlessly fought and tore at human flesh and human hearts. 

Vandecar gently touched Katherine's arm; but her feet were powerless tomove. 

"Katherine, " the governor groaned, "don't you remember that you criedover him and your mother, and that--"

"Yes, yes!" Katherine breathed. She was trying to still the beating ofher heart, trying to thrust aside a great, revolting fear; yet she knewintuitively that the squatter was her father, and remembered how therecounting of her mother's death had touched her. In one flashingthought, she recalled how she had longed for a mother, and how she hadturned away when other girls were being caressed and loved. But neverhad it entered her mind to imagine that her parents were like this. Thepicture of the hut in which the wee woman had died rose within her--thedeath agony had been so plainly described. The tall, shrinking, sobbingman against the wall was her father! Even that afternoon, when GovernorVandecar had told her of her birth and her mother's death, and of herfather in the lake hut, she had not imagined him like this man. Yetsomething pleaded for him, some subtle, gentle spirit hovering nearseemed to drag her forward. She shuddered, slipped from Vandecar's arms, and crouched down before the squatter. She turned a livid, twitchingface up to his, her eyes beseeching his with infinite compassion. Allthat was beautiful in the gentle, soulful girl broke over Ann like asurging sea. This girl, who had been brought up in a beautiful home, always attended with loving kindness, was casting her lot with a man solow and vile that another person would have turned away in disgust. MissShellington's mind recalled her girlhood days, in which Katherine hadbeen an intimate part. She could not bear it. She took an impulsiveforward step; but Vandecar gripped her. 

"Stay, " came sternly from his lips, "stay! But--but God pity her!"

The next seconds were laden with biting agony such as neither thegovernor nor Ann had ever experienced. Katherine pleaded silently withthe man above her for paternal recognition. Suddenly he drew away fromthe kneeling girl and shrank into the corner, pressing the wall with hisgreat weight until the rotting boards of the shanty creaked behind him. Only now and then was his mind equal to the task of owning her. Gathering strength to speak, Katherine sobbed:

"Father, Father, I never knew of you until today--I didn't know, Ididn't know!"

In her agony she did not notice the fierce eyes melt with tenderness;but Vandecar saw it with a tumultuous heart. He was waiting to claim thelittle figure on the floor, that he might take her back to her mother. In that way he would retrieve his own past errors and in a measureredeem the misspent life of the thief. He saw Cronk smooth his brow witha shaking hand, as if to wipe away from his befuddled brain the cobwebsof indecision and time-gathered shadows. His lips, drawn awry withintensity, opened only to drone:

"Pretty little Midge, I thought as how ye were dead! And ye've come backto yer man, a lovin' him as much as ever! God--God!" He raised streamingeyes upward, and then finished, "God! And there be a God, no matter howI said there wasn't! He didn't let ye die when I were pinched!" With amighty strength he swept the girl from the floor and turned mad eyesupon Vandecar. 

"She ain't dead, Mister--I thought she were! Take back yer brat, andkeep yer boy--and God forgive me!"

So tender was his last petition, that it seemed but a breath whisperedinto the infinite listening ear of the God above. Katherine, likeFledra, had lapsed into unconsciousness. 

"She's fainted!" cried Ann. "Oh, Katherine, poor, pretty littleKatherine!"

"Help her, Ann!" urged Vandecar. "Do something for her!"

He did not wait to see Ann comply; but turned to Fledra, who, stillwrapped in unconsciousness, lay crouched on the floor, her dark curlsmassed in confusion. Granny Cronk's blouse had fallen away, leaving therounded shoulders bare and gleaming in the faint yellow light. 

The father gathered the daughter into his arms with passionatetenderness. At first he did not try to revive her; but sat down and heldher close, as if he would never let her go. Tears, the product of wearyages of waiting, fell on her white, upturned face, and again he murmuredthanksgivings into her unheeding ear. For many moments only the words ofAnn could be heard, as she tried to reason with Cronk to releaseKatherine for a moment. 

"Lay her down, won't you? She's ill. Please, let me put water on herface!"

"Nope, " replied Lon; "she won't git away from me ag'in. She's Midge, mylittle Midge, my little woman, and she's mine!"

"Yes, yes, " answered Ann, "I know she's yours; but do you want her todie?"

With his great hands still locked about Katherine, Cronk looked down onher lovely face, crushed against his breast. She was a counterpart ofthe woman who had lived in another hut with him, and his dazed mind hadlost the intervening years. Midge had come out of the prison shadows, and the big squatter had turned back two decades to meet her. 

"She's only asleep, " he said simply; "she allers slep' on my breast, Missus. She'd never let me put her off'n my arm a minute. And I didn'twant to, nuther. She were allers afeared of ghosts--allers, allers! AndI kep' her close like this. She ain't dead, Ma'm. "

His voice was free from anger and passion. By dint of persuasion, atlength Ann forced him to release Katherine and to aid her while shebathed the girl's white face with water. 

Katherine was still limp and bewildered when, ten minutes later, Fledraopened her eyes and looked up into her father's face. The past hour hadnot returned to her memory, and she drew quickly away. Of late she hadbecome timid, always on the defensive; and when Ann spoke to her sheheld out her arms. 

"I'm afraid!" she whimpered. "I want to go to Sister Ann. "

But Vandecar held her fast as Miss Shellington knelt on the hut floor athis side. 

"Fledra, listen to me! This is your own father, Dear. Don't draw awayfrom him. He came with me for you. We're going to take you back to yourmother and little Floyd. "

It seemed an eternity to the waiting man before Fledra received him. There were many things she had to reason away. It was necessary first todispense entirely with Lon Cronk, to feel absolutely free from Lem. Until then, how could she feel secure? The eyes bent upon hers affectedher strangely. They were spotted like Flukey's, and had the same trickof not moving when they received another's glance. Then Ann'sexclamation seemed to awaken her lethargic soul, and she seized upon theword "mother. "

"Mother, Mother!" she stumbled, "oh, I want her, Sister Ann! I want her!Will you take me to her? She's sweet and--and mine!" She made the laststatement in a low voice directly to Vandecar. 

"Yes, and I'm your father, Fledra, " he whispered. He longed for her tobe glad in him--longed now as never before. 

Fledra's eyes sought Cronk's. He had forgotten her; Katherine alone heldhis attention. Timidly she raised her arms and drew down her father'sface to hers. 

"I'm glad, I'm awful glad that you're mine--and you're Floyd's, too. Oh, I'm so glad! And you say--my mother--"

"Yes, Dear, " Vandecar murmured, deeply moved; "a beautiful mother, whois waiting and longing for her girl. Dear God, how thankful I am to beable to restore you to her!"

The governor held her close, while he told her of her babyhood and thestory of the kidnapping, refraining from mentioning Cronk's name. Ittook sometime to impress upon her that all need of apprehension waspast, that her future cast with her own dear ones was safe, and that Lemand Lon were but as shadows of other days. 

Katherine, weeping with despair, was sitting close to Lon. She knewwithout being told that the father she had just found had lost from hismemory all of the bitterness of the years gone by. He had gone back tohis Midge, and now centered upon his newly found child the identity ofthis dead woman. It was better so, even Katherine admitted; for he wasmeek and tender, wholly unlike the sullen, ugly man they had seenearlier in the evening. The squatter's condition made it impossible toallow Katherine to be with him, and they dared not leave him alone inthe hut. Later, when they were making plans for Cronk's future, Vandecarsaid:

"We can't leave him here, Ann dear. Can't we take him with us, Katherine?"

"It's the only thing I can see to do, " replied Ann, with catchingbreath. 

"You'll come with him and me, Katherine, and we'll take him to the car, while he is subdued. You, Ann, dress that child, and wait here forHorace. I'll come back directly. I must place Cronk with the conductor, for fear--"

"Don't be long, " begged Ann. "I'm so afraid!"

"No, only long enough to signal the train and get them aboard. You mustbe brave, dear girl, and we must all remember what he has suffered. Hisheart is as big as the world, and I can't forget that, indirectly, Ibrought this upon him. " He turned his glance upon the squatter, andKatherine's eyes followed his. The lines about Lon's mouth had softenedwith tenderness, his eyes were filled with adoration. Katherine flashedhim back a sad smile. 

"The little Midge!" murmured Lon. "I'll never steal ag'in--never! AndI'll jest fish and work fer my little woman--my pretty woman!"

Vandecar rose and went to the squatter. 

"Lon, " he said, placing a hand upon the rough jacket, "will you bringyour little--" He was about to say daughter, but changed the word to"Midge, " and continued, "Will you bring Midge to my car and come toTarrytown with us?"

Cronk stared vacantly. 

"Nope, " he drawled; "I'll stay here in the hut with Midge. It's dark, and she's afraid of ghosts. I'll never steal ag'in, Mister, so I can'tget pinched. "

Vandecar still insisted:

"But won't you let your little girl come back and get her clothes? Andyou, too, can come to our home, for--for a visit. " His face crimsoned ashe prevaricated. 

But Lon still shook his head. 

"A squatter woman's place be in her home with her man, " he said. 

Vandecar turned helplessly upon Katherine. 

"You persuade him, " he entreated in an undertone. 

Katherine whispered her desire in her father's ear. 

"We'll go only for a few days, " she promised. 

"And ye'll come back here?" he demanded. 

The girl glanced toward Governor Vandecar, and caught the slightinclination of his head. 

"Yes, " she promised; "yes, we'll come back, if you are quite well. "

Cronk stooped down and pressed his lips to hers. 

"I'd a gone with ye, Midge, 'cause I couldn't say no to nothin' ye askedme. " But he halted, as they tried to lead him through the door. 

"I don't like the dark, " he muttered, drawing back. 

Fledra eyed him in consternation. Never before had she known him toexpress fear of anything, much less of the elements which seemed but apart of his own stormy nature. Never had she seen the great head bowedor the shoulders stooped in timidity. Katherine had Cronk's hand inhers, and she gently drew him forward. 

"Come, come!" she breathed softly. 

"I'm afraid, " Lon whined again. "I want to stay here, Midge. " He lookedback, and, encountering Vandecar's eyes, made appeal to him. 

"Cronk, " the governor said, "do you believe that I am your friend?"

The squatter flung about, facing the other. 

"Yep, " he answered slowly, "I know ye be my friend. If ye'll let me walkwith my hand in yer'n, I'll go. " He said it simply, as a child to aparent. He held out his crooked fingers, and Vandecar seized them. Katherine took up her position on the other side of her father, and thethree stepped out into the night and began slowly to ascend the hill. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

To Horace Shellington it seemed many hours before the small, jerky trainthat ran between Auburn and Ithaca drew into the latter city. In hiseagerness to reach the squatter settlement without loss of time, hehastened from the car into the station. He knew that it would be farinto the night before he reached Lon Cronk's, and, with his whole soul, he hoped he would be in time to save Fledra from harm. At the littlewindow in the station he hurriedly demanded of the agent a mode ofconveyance to take him to the spot nearest the squatter's home. 

"There's no way to get there tonight over this road, " said the man; "butyou might see if Middy Burnes could take you down the lake. He's got atug, and for a little money he'll run you right there. "

Horace quickly left the station, and, making his way to the street, found the house to which he had been directed. At his knock Middy Burnespoked a bald head out of the door and asked his business. In a few wordsShellington made known his wants. The tugman threw the door wider andscratched his head as he cogitated:

"Mister, it'll take me a plumb hour to get the fire goin' good in thattug. If ye can wait that long, till I get steam up, I'll be glad to takeye. " So, presently the two walked together toward the inlet where theboat was tied. 

"Who do you want to see down the lake this time of the year?" askedBurnes, with a sidelong look at his tall companion. 

"Lon Cronk. "

"Ho! ho!" laughed Middy. "I jest brought him and Lem Crabbe up fromTarrytown, with one of Lon's kids. She's a pretty little 'un. I pityher, 'cause she didn't do nothin' but cry all the way up, and once shejumped into the lake. "

"Did what?"

The sharpness of Shellington's voice told Middy that this news was ofmoment. 

"Well, ye see, 'tain't none of my business, 'cause the gal belongs toLon; but, if she was mine, I wouldn't give her to no Lem Crabbe. Lemsaid she jumped in the lake after a pup; but I 'low he was monkeyin'with her. Her pappy hopped in the water after her like a frog and pulledher out quicker'n scat. "

With fear in his heart, Horace waited on deck for Burnes to get upsteam, and it seemed an interminable time before the tug at last drewlazily from the inlet bridge, and, swinging round under Middy'sexperienced hand, started slowly down the black stream. 

 * * * * *

Ann closed the shanty door after seeing the governor and his twocompanions disappear up the hill, and smiled at Fledra with shiningeyes. The wonderful events of the evening had taken place in such rapidorder that she had no time to express her happiness to the girl. Sheopened her arms, and Fledra darted into them. 

"It's all because you prayed, Sister Ann, " she sobbed, "and because youtaught me how to pray. Does--does Horace know about my new father andmother?"

"No, Dear; he left Tarrytown before we ourselves knew. We received atelegram from Horace saying he had come on to Ithaca. We must wait here;for he'll arrive sometime tonight. We couldn't go and allow him to findthis place empty. "

"Of course not, " the girl sighed impatiently. "Oh, I hope he comessoon!"

Her soul burned for a sight of him. He had been the first to fly to herrescue, even when he had thought her but a squatter girl. He had notshrunk from the dangers of the settlement, and, in spite of the peril ofLem and Lon, he had been willing to drag her away from harm for the loveof her. The thought was infinitely sweet. 

At length Ann brought her to the present. 

"Fledra dear, can you realize that little Mildred is your own sister, and that Mildred's mother is yours? Oh, Darling, you ought to be thehappiest girl in the world!"

"I'm happy, all right, " said Fledra gravely; "only, I feel sorry forKatherine. Somehow, we changed Daddies, didn't we?"

"Yes, Dear, and I feel for her too, " lamented Ann. "I can't see howshe's going to bear it. "

"Maybe she's been a praying, " said Fledra, "as I did when I thought Iwas coming to Lem. It does help a lot. "

"Dear child, dear heart, " murmured Ann, "your faith is greater thanmine! Katherine Vandecar is a saint, and--and so are you, Fledra. "

"No, I'm not. " The girl dropped her eyes and flushed deeply. 

"Oh, but Fledra, you are!" Then a new thought entered Ann's mind, andshe hesitated before she continued. "Fledra, will you tell me somethingabout Mr. Brimbecomb? I mean--you know--the trouble you spoke of in yourletter to him?"

Fledra flashed a startled glance. 

"Did he dare show it to you?"

"No, no, Fledra; he dropped it, and Horace found it. "

"Is that the way you knew where I'd gone?"

"Yes, and on account of it Floyd went to the governor's house. "

"Oh, why did you let Floyd go out? He is so ill!" Her eyes werereproachful. 

Ann, with a smile, kissed the girl. 

"Dear, unselfish child, " said she, "don't you understand that, if hehadn't gone, you wouldn't have your strong, big father, nor would littleFloyd be now with his mother?"

"Maybe our mother'll make Floyd well, " cried Fledra. "Oh, she couldn'thelp but love him, could she, Sister Ann?"

"And it will be impossible for her not to love you, Deary, " exclaimedAnn, wiping her eyes. "But now you must dress. Have you still theclothes you wore away from home?"

"Yes, I have them; but they're all mussed. I fell in the lake, and gotthem all wet, and they're wrinkled now. They're up in the loft. Wait--I'll get them. " She was scrambling up the ladder as she spoke, andher last words were uttered in the darkness of the loft. 

Ann could hear the girl moving about overhead, and heard the dragging ofa box across the floor. Then another sound broke upon her ears, andbefore she could move toward the door it opened, and a shabby, one-armedman shuffled in, followed by Everett Brimbecomb. 

 * * * * *

After Everett had disappeared across the little bridge, Scraggy closedthe rickety door of her hut and went fidgeting about in the litteredroom. Long she brooded, sniveling in her bewilderment. Something hazy, something out of the past, knocked incessantly upon her demented brain. This something touched her heart; for she whimpered as does a hurt childwhen the hurt is deep and the child's mother is not near. She stillmissed Black Pussy, and when she thought of the loss of her only friendwilder paroxysms of frenzied grief filled the shanty. 

After one of her raving fits of crying more vehement than thosepreceding, Black Pussy again came to her mind, and suddenly she wastaken back to the wintry night she had lost him. Feebly she put theevents of that evening together, one by one, until like a burst of lightthe memory of her boy came to her. Not once hitherto had she rememberedhim since his blow had sent her into unconsciousness. Now she recalledhow roughly her son had handled her, and she did not forget his threatto kill her if she ever mentioned to anyone that she was his mother. Sherecognized, too, the identity of the stranger who had asked her the wayto the scow but a little while before. 

A sane expression came into her eyes, and she settled herself back tothink. With her pondering came a clear thought--her boy was seeking hisfather! Still somewhat dazed, she tottered to one corner of the hut andfumbled for her shawl. 

"He axed for Lon!" she whispered. "Nope, he axed for Lem, his own daddy. Now, Lemmy'll take me with 'em--oh, how I love 'em both! And the boy'lleat all he wants, and his little hand'll smooth my face when my headaches!"

Muttering fond words, she opened the door and slid out into the night. She paused on the rustic bridge, the sound of footsteps in the lane thatled to the tracks bringing her to a standstill. Several persons wereapproaching her. They came steadily nearer, passed the footpath that ledto her hut, and she crept out. Two men and a woman were near enough forScreech Owl to touch them, if she had put out her hand. She remainedperfectly quiet, and Lon Cronk's voice, muttering words she did notunderstand, came to her through the underbrush. Then, in her joy, Scraggy speedily forgot them, and, as she hurried down the hill sent outcry after cry into the clear night. 

 * * * * *

For a long time Miss Shellington stood staring at Everett, and the manas fixedly at her. The movements were still going on in the loft. 

"How came you here?" cried Ann sharply, when she had at last gatheredher senses. 

"I might ask you the same thing, " replied Everett suavely. "This isscarcely a place for a girl like you. "

"I came after Fledra, " she said slowly. "I didn't know--"

Everett came forward and crowded back her words with:

"And I came for the same person!"

Brimbecomb reasoned quickly that he dared not tell Ann the truth, andthat so long as she thought his actions were for Fledra's welfare shewould stand by him. 

"I found out that these ruffians had taken her, and I came after her. Ithought a good school would be better than this. " He swept his hand overthe hut, and did not notice the expression that flitted across Ann'sface. 

Lem uttered an unintelligible grunt, and growled:

"He's a damned liar, Miss! He wanted to buy the gal from me and Lon. "

Everett laughed sneeringly. 

"Miss Shellington would not believe such a tale as that, " said he; "sheknows me too well. "

"I do believe him, " said Ann. "I saw the letter you lost, which Fledrawrote you. You dropped it in our drawing-room. Horace found it. "

Everett saw his fall coming. He would not be worsted by this woman, whohad believed once that he was the soul of truth. To lose her and theprestige of her family, and to lose also Fledra, was more than he wouldendure. He bounded forward and grasped her arm fiercely. 

"Where is that squatter girl? I'll stand nothing from you or thatbrother of yours! Where is he, and where is she?"

Ann stood silently praying for strength. So plainly had Everett shownhis colors that she felt disgust grow in her heart, although her eyeswere directed straight upon him. She hoped that the girl in the loftupstairs would not come down until Governor Vandecar returned. Again shesent up a soul-moving petition for help. 

"You can't have her!" she said, trying to speak calmly. "She is going tomarry my brother, Everett. "

Just then Fledra, robed in her own clothes, scrambled to the top rung ofthe ladder. She paused halfway down and glanced over the scene belowwith unbelieving eyes. 

"Go back up, Fledra, " commanded Ann. 

"I don't think she'll go back up, " gritted Brimbecomb. "Come down!" Headvanced a step, with his hand upon his hip. "I've something to coax youwith, " he declared in an undertone. "It is this!"

Fledra saw the revolver, noted the expression on the man's face, andstepped slowly down the ladder. The silence of the moment that followedwas broken by several loud hoots of an owl. The first one seemed indirect proximity to the hut; the last ones came faintly from the shoreof the lake. 

When she saw the gun, Ann whitened to the ears, and the threat inEverett's eyes caused Lem to gurgle in his throat, as if he would speakbut could not. 

"I told you, " said Everett, with his lips close to Fledra's ear, "thatI would use any means to get you.... Stand aside there--you two!"

He turned his flashing eyes upon the scowman and Ann, and, placing hisarm about Fledra, drew her forward. The girl was so dazed at the turn ofaffairs that she allowed Everett to drag her, unresisting, half thelength of the room. Then her glance moved upward to Ann. MissShellington's face was as pallid as death, and her horrified look atEverett brought Fledra to her senses. The girl looked appealingly atLem. The scowman's squinted eyes and the contortions of his face causedFledra to cry out:

"Lem, Lem, save me! save me!"

Crabbe drew his heavy body more compactly together, and, with his eyesglued upon the revolver, advanced along the wall toward Brimbecomb. Hisfrightful wheezes and choking gulps attracted the lawyer's attention tohim, and the gun was suddenly leveled at his breast. 

"Stand back there, Crabbe!" ordered Everett. "You have nothing to dowith this. "

But, as the lawyer spoke, Lem sprang forward with the fierceness of awild beast. Instantly followed the report of a revolver; but the bulletwent wide and sunk into the opposite wall, for, as Everett aimed at Lem, Fledra twisted and struck his arm so heavily that his fingers loosenedand the weapon clattered across the room. 

The impact of the scowman's body bore the lawyer down, while Fledra wasthrown away from the struggle by a sweep of Lem's left arm. Ann waspetrified with fear; but this did not keep her from picking up the girlfrom the floor. In her terror she took in each motion of the fighters. She saw Lem lift his left hand, and heard the sickening thud as hisgreat brown fist struck Everett full in the face. She saw the hook flashin the candlelight, then bury its glittering prong in the other's neck. Everett screamed once, then was silent; for with his unmaimed hand thescowman had grasped his enemy's throat and was shaking the body as a dogdoes a rat. In his frenzy, Lem threshed and tumbled Brimbecomb about onthe hut floor, the sight of his rival's blood sending him mad; andalways the sound of his gasps and chokes rose above the struggle. Of asudden the gurgles in the throat of the scowman ceased, his face becamepurple black, and it seemed to Ann that his blood must burst through thethick skin. With one last movement he again buried his hook in Everett, then tried to throw the body from him; but, instead, he himself, fell ina heap on the floor. 

Suddenly the door opened, and Scraggy Peterson staggered into the hut. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

She sent no glance at Ann, nor did she see Fledra shrinking in thecorner. No thought came to her weak brain save of the two men at gripswith death. She staggered forward with a cry. 

"Lemmy, Lemmy, ye wouldn't kill yer own brat?... He's our little 'un!... Lemmy!... God!... Ye've killed him!"

Scraggy put her hands on Everett, and saw Lem struggle to sit up, thelust of killing still blazing in his eyes. He had heard the woman'swords, and as he slowly grasped the import of them he turned over andraised his head while pulling desperately at his throat. 

"Oh, Lemmy, love, " she murmured, "ye've killed him this time! He'sdead!" She leaned farther over, and kissed the white face of her son. "Yer hook's killed our little 'un, Lemmy--my little 'un, my little 'un!"

"Oh, no, no, he isn't dead!" cried Ann. "He can't be dead!" She let goher hold on Fledra, and, with Scraggy, bent over Everett. "Oh, hebreathes! But he isn't your son?"

"Yep; he be Lemmy's boy and mine, " answered Scraggy, lifting her eyesonce more to Ann. "Look! He were hurt here by the hook when he were ababy. " She drew aside Everett's tattered shirt-front and displayed along white mark. 

Ann staggered back. Everett had said to her:

"My mother will know me by the mark on my breast. "

So this was the end of Everett's dream!

"He didn't love his mammy very much, " Scraggy went on, "nor his pappy, nuther; but it were 'cause he didn't know nuther one of us very well, and Lem didn't love him nuther. And now they've fit till he's dead!Lemmy's sick, too. Look at his face! He can't swaller when he's sicklike that. " She left Everett and crawled to Lem. 

"Can ye drink, Lemmy?" she asked sorrowfully. 

The grizzled head shook a negative. 

"Be ye dyin?"

This time Crabbe's head came forward in assent. 

"Then ye dies with yer little boy--poor little feller! He were thebestest boy in the hull world!" Here she placed an arm under Everett'sneck; throwing the other about Lem, she drew the two men together beforeshe resumed. "And Lemmy was the bestest man and pappy that anybody eversee!"

 * * * * *

Screech Owl's last words were nearly drowned by the shrill whistle of asteamer. A minute later Ann and Fledra heard running footsteps comingfrom the direction of the lake. There was no knock; but a quick jerk ofthe latch-string flung wide the door--and Fledra was in Horace's arms. 

"Thank God, my little girl is safe!" he murmured. 

Then he glanced over her head, his horrified attention centered upon thegroup on the floor. 

Scraggy looked up at him, still holding Lem and Everett. 

"I'm glad ye comed, Mister. Can't ye help 'em any?"

For many minutes they worked in silence over the father and son. Oncethe brilliant eyes of Brimbecomb opened and flashed bewilderedly aboutthe room, until he caught sight of Ann. A smile, sweet and winning, curved his lips. Then he lapsed into unconsciousness again. 

"Oh, I want him to speak to me, Horace, " moaned Ann, "only a littleword!"

"Wait, Dear, " said Horace. "We're doing all we can.... I believe thatman over there is dead. "

He made a motion as if to lean over the scowman; but Scraggy pushed himback. 

"No, my Lemmy ain't dead, " she wailed, "course he ain't dead!" Sheplaced her lips close to the dying man's ear, and called, "Lemmy, Lemmy, this be Scraggy!"

The hooked arm moved a trifle, and then was still. The fingers of theleft hand groped weakly about, and Scraggy, with a sob, lifted the armand put it about her. Had the others in the room been mindful of theaction, they would have seen the man's muscles tighten about the woman'sthin neck. Then presently his arm loosened and he was dead. 

Everett's eyes were open, and he was trying to speak. 

"Is--Ann--here?" he whispered faintly. 

"Yes, Dear, I am here, right close beside you. Can't you feel my hands?"

His head turned feebly, and his fingers sought hers. 

"I have been--wretchedly--wicked!"

His voice was so low that Horace did not catch the words; but Scraggyheard, and crawled from Lem to Miss Shellington's side. 

"Missus, will ye tell my little boy-brat that his mammy be here? Will yesay as how I loved him--him and Lemmy, allers?"

Her haggard face was close to Ann's, and the latter took in every wordof the low-spoken petition. Miss Shellington bent over the dying man. 

"Everett, " she said brokenly, "your own mother is here, and she wantsyou to speak to her. "

Brimbecomb partly rose, and, in scanning those in the hut, his eyes fellupon Screech Owl. The tense agony seemed for an instant to leave hisface, and it fell into more boyish lines. 

"Little 'un--pretty little 'un, " whispered Scraggy "yer mammy loves ye, and Lemmy loved ye, too, if he did hit ye!"

Screech Owl hung over him many minutes in a breathless silence; but whenVandecar came in Everett, too, was dead. Then, at last, Scraggy movedtoward the door, and, with the same wild cry that had haunted thesettlement for so many years, sprang out into the night. 

 * * * * *

From her hiding place in the gulch, Scraggy saw Vandecar and the restmount the hill. When they had disappeared, she slunk down the lane andmade straight for Lon's hut. With dread in her eyes, she stood forsometime before the dark shanty, and then swayed forward to the window. 

When she reached it, superstition forced her back; but love provedstronger than fear, and she looked into the room. So dark was it withinthat she could see only the white mound on the floor--the mound made bythe dead father and son. They were hers--all that was left of the menshe had loved always! Scraggy tried the door; but found it locked. Thenshe attempted to move the window; but it, too, had been fastened. With astone she hammered out the glass, making an opening through which shedragged her body. As she stood there in silent gloom, the very airseemed to hang heavy with death. In the dark Scraggy broke out intosobs, and was seized with spasms of shivering; she had no strength tomove forward or backward. 

But again love drove her on, and some seconds passed before she foundmatches to light the candle. When the dim flame lighted up the room, sheturned slowly to the middle of the floor. Tremblingly she drew down thecovering and looked upon her dead. They were hers--these men were herseven in death! Chokingly she stifled her sobs, and then the decisioncame to her that she would keep a night vigil until break of day. Of thetwo, Screech Owl knew not which she loved better. 

"Ye both be dead, " she moaned, looking first at Lem then at Everett;"dead so ye'll never breathe no more! But Scraggy loves ye.... God! yenuther one of ye knows how she loves ye! There weren't no men in thehull world as good as ye both was.... Lemmy didn't know ye was his, little 'un, and ye didn't know Lemmy were yer daddy. I'll stay with yeboth till the day. "

Saying this, she crouched low between Crabbe and Brimbecomb, and, encircling each neck with an arm, thrust her face down close betweenthem. 

Lon Cronk's old clock on the shelf ticked out the minutes into thesomberness of the hut. The waves of the lake, breaking ceaselessly uponthe shore, softened the harsh, uneven croaks of the marsh-frogs withtheir harmony. Through the broken window drifted the night noises, andthe wind fluttered the candle-flame weakly. Suddenly Screech Owl thoughtshe heard a voice--a voice filled with tender sympathy and pathos. Without disengaging her arms, she lifted herself and searched with dimeyes even the corners of the hut. Misty forms shaded to ghost-grayseemed to steal out and group themselves about her dead. She took herarm from Everett and brushed back the straggling locks that blurred hersight. 

The voice spoke again, pronouncing her name in low, even tones. Oncemore she wound her arm about Everett, and pressed herself down betweenher beloveds. Her eyes, protruding and fearful, saw the candlelight growdimmer. 

"Lemmy, Lemmy, " she gasped between hard-coming breaths, "I'm comin'after ye and our pretty boy! Wherever ye both be--I come--"

A film gathered over Scraggy's eyes, and her words were cut short by thepain of the intermittent flutterings of her heart. She fell lower, andwith a last weak effort drew the heads closer together. Then Scraggy'sspirit, which had ever sought her lover and her son, took flight outinto the vast expanse of the universe, to find Everett and Lem. 

 * * * * *

Governor Vandecar bent over his wife. 

"Darling, " he murmured, "I have brought you back your other baby. Won'tyou turn and--look at--her?"

Fledra was standing at her father's side, and now for an instant shelooked down into the blue eyes through which she saw the yearning heartof her mother. Then she knelt down with Floyd, and they rested theirheads in tearful silence under the hands of these dear ones, whotrembled with thankfulness. 

The last fifteen years flashed as a panorama across the governor's mind. That day he had discharged his debt to Lon Cronk by placing the squatterwhere his diseased mind could be treated, and he had insisted that hisown name and home should be Katharine's, the same as of yore. It was notuntil Mildred opened the door and entered hesitantly that he raised hishead. Silently he held out his arms and drew his baby girl into them. 

 * * * * *

Horace's first duty when he returned to Tarrytown was to make Ann ascomfortable as he could. She had borne up well under the tragedy, andsmiled at him bravely as he left for Vandecar's. The governor met him inthe hall and drew him into his library. 

"I must speak with you, boy, before--"

"Then I may talk with Fledra?"

The governor hesitated. 

"She is so young yet, Horace! I beg of you to wait, won't you? There aremany things to be attended to before she can leave her mother and me. We've only just found her. "

"I must see her, though, " replied Horace stubbornly. 

"You shall, if you will promise me--"

"I won't promise anything, " said Horace, slowly raising his eyes. "AfterI have spoken to her, we'll decide. "

Vandecar sighed and touched the bell. 

"Say to Miss Fledra that I wish to speak with her, " he said to theservant. 

After a moment they heard her coming through the hall. Vandecar placedhis hand upon Horace's arm; but the young man flung it off as the dooropened and Fledra came in. Her face was still pale and wan. Her eyesdarkened by circles, testified to the misery of the days since she hadleft him. Horace spoke her name softly, held out his arms, and she fledinto them. He pressed her head closely to his breast, smoothing theblack curls, while blinding tears coursed down his face. The governorturned from them to the window. He stood there, until Horace askedhuskily:

"Fledra, Fledra, do you still love me? Oh, say that you do! I'mperishing to be forgiven for my lack of faith in you. Can you forgiveme, beloved?"

"I love you, Horace, " she murmured, lifting bright, shy eyes. "And Ilove my beautiful mother, too, and--oh, I--worship my splendid father. "

She held out one hand to Governor Vandecar, over which the father closedhis fingers. Then she threw back her head and smiled at them both. 

"I'm going to stay with my mother till she gets well. I'm goin' to helpFloyd till he walks as well as ever. Then I'm goin' to study and readtill my father's satisfied. Then, after that, " she turned a radiantglance on both men, and ended, "when he wants me, I'll go with myPrince. "

 THE END

 * * * * *

JOHN FOX, JR'S. 

STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS

=May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. =

THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 

The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall treethat stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pinelured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when hefinally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, andthe trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madderchase than "the trail of the lonesome pine. "

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 

This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come. " Itis a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which oftensprings the flower of civilization. 

"Chad, " the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence hecame--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered andmothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in themountains. 

A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 

The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair ofmoonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and theheroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight. " Twoimpetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's"charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in thelove making of the mountaineers. 

Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some ofMr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. 

_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_

GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST. , NEW YORK

 * * * * *

THE NOVELS OF WINSTON CHURCHILL

THE INSIDE OF THE CUP. Illustrated by Howard Giles. 

The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in amiddle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in histheology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his church coulddesire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; an awakeningfollows and in the end he works out a solution. 

A FAR COUNTRY. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. 

This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As The _Inside ofthe Cup_ gets down to the essentials in its discussion of religion, so_A Far Country_ deals in a story that is intense and dramatic, withother vital issues confronting the twentieth century. 

A MODERN CHRONICLE. Illustrated by J. H. Gardner Soper. 

This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal Feminine, is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American woman. Itis frankly a modern love story. 

MR. CREWE'S CAREER. Illus. By A. I. Keller and Kinneys. 

A New England state is under the political domination of a railway andMr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause of the peopleis being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his owninterest in a political way. The daughter of the railway president playsno small part in the situation. 

THE CROSSING. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. Baylis. 

Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Kentuckywilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of followers inIllinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and Mississippi, and the treasonable schemes against Washington. 

CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn. 

A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the hero, acrude man who rose to political prominence by his own powers, and thensurrendered all for the love of a woman. 

THE CELEBRITY. An episode. 

An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of personalitiesbetween a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It is the purest, keenest fun--and is American to the core. 

THE CRISIS. Illustrated with scenes from the Photo-Play. 

A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with splendidpower and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism that areinspiring. 

RICHARD CARVEL. Illustrated by Malcolm Frazer. 

An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Colonialtimes, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phases andinteresting throughout. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

 * * * * *

ZANE GREY'S NOVELS

=May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. =

THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARSColored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton. 

Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent Mexicanborder of the present day. A New York society girl buys a ranch whichbecomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal cowboys defend herproperty from bandits, and her superintendent rescues her when she iscaptured by them. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightfulclose. 

DESERT GOLDIllustrated by Douglas Duer. 

Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men, lost in thedesert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they can go nofarther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising along theborder, and ends with the finding of the gold which the two prospectorshad willed to the girl who is the story's heroine. 

RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGEIllustrated by Douglas Duer. 

A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormonauthority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a rich ranchowner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by the invisiblehand of the Mormon Church to break her will. 

THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMENIllustrated with photograph reproductions. 

This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desertand of a hunt in "that wonderful country of yellow crags, deep canonsand giant pines. " It is a fascinating story. 

THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERTJacket in color. Frontispiece. 

This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A lovely girl, whohas been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. TheMormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the secondwife of one of the Mormons--

Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story. 

BETTY ZANEIllustrated by Louis F. Grant. 

This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautifulyoung sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. Lifealong the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense of thebeleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, and Betty'sfinal race for life, make up this never-to-be-forgotten story. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

 * * * * *

STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER

=May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. =

LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. 

This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The storyis told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but itis concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairsof older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie, theolder brother whom Little Sister adores, and the Princess, an Englishgirl who has come to live in the neighborhood and about whose familythere hangs a mystery. There is a wedding midway in the book and adouble wedding at the close. 

THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. 

"The Harvester, " David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, whodraws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If thebook had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would benotable. But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods, " and theHarvester's whole being realizes that this is the highest point of lifewhich has come to him--there begins a romance of the rarest idyllicquality. 

FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford. 

Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which hetakes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the greatLimberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs tothe charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "TheAngel" are full of real sentiment. 

A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. 

The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type ofthe self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindnesstowards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty ofher soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren andunpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. 

AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. 

The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. Thestory is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, andits pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

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 Transcriber's note: Punctuation has been made regular and consistent with contemporary standards. 

 Page 67, "forword" changed to "forward" (boy went forward). 

 Page 320, "wip" changed to "wipe" (to wipe away).