The years went on, with the gap still left wide in the Vandecar
household. As month after month passed and nothing was heard of her
children, Mrs. Vandecar gradually gave up hope. Her despair left a
shadow of pathetic pleading in her blue eyes. This constant silent
appeal whitened Floyd Vandecar's hair and caused him to apply himself to
business more assiduously than ever. Never once in all those bitter
years did he connect Lon Cronk with the disappearance of his babies.
Meantime two sturdy children were growing to girlhood and boyhood in the
Cronk hut on Cayuga Lake. So safely had the secret of the kidnapping
been kept from Granny Cronk and the other squatters in the settlement
that the twins were regarded by all as the son and daughter of the
squatter.
The year following Flea's and Flukey's fourteenth birthday the boy was
taken into his foster-father's trade of thieving. At first he was
allowed only to enter the houses and deftly unbar the door for an easier
egress for Eli Cronk and Lem Crabbe. Later he was commanded to snatch up
anything of value he could. Many were the times he wept in boyish
bitterness 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. But
Flukey one day silenced this reiteration by confiding to her that Pappy
Lon had threatened to turn her to his trade if he rebelled.
* * * * *
One afternoon in late September, Flea left the hut and went out to the
lake. Flukey, Lon Cronk, and Lem Crabbe had gone to Ithaca to buy
groceries, and it was time for them to return. A chill wind swung the
girl's skirt about her knees, and for some minutes she squatted on the
beach, keeping her eyes upon the lighthouse in the distance.
For the last year Flea had been rapidly growing into a woman. Granny
Cronk had proudly noted that the fair face had grown lovelier, that the
ebony curls fell about her shoulders. The one dream the girl had had was
a dream of long hair, ankle dresses, and girl's shoes. Until that year
Lon had insisted that her hair be kept short, and had himself trimmed
the ebony curls every month. Now, in the damp air, they twisted and
turned in the wildest profusion. The coming of womanhood had thrown new
light into the clear-gray, brown-flecked eyes. At this moment she was
wondering what she and her brother would do if Granny Cronk died. She
shivered as she thought of life in the hut without the protecting old
woman.
Suddenly, from above the Lehigh Valley tracks, she heard the sound of
horses' hoofs. Her attention taken from her meditations, she lifted her
pensive gaze from the lake, wheeled about, and looked for the horseman.
Flea knew that it was not a summer cottager; for many days before the
last of them had taken his family to Ithaca. Perhaps some chance
wayfarer had followed the wrong road. Just below the tracks she caught a
glimpse of a black horse, and as it came nearer Flea noted the rider, a
young man whose kindly dark eyes and white teeth dazzled her. His
straight legs were incased in yellow boots, his fine form in a tightly
fitting riding-coat. Flea had never seen just such a man, not even in
the infrequent visits she made to Ithaca. Something in his smile, as he
drew up his steed and looked down upon her, affected her with a curious
thrill.
"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 and
deep, made her forget for a moment the question he had asked her. Then
she remembered; but instinctively she did not reply in her usual high
squatter 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 came
from a sudden realization that there lived another class of people
outside the squatter settlement of whom she knew little.
"Thank you very much," replied the questioner. "Now I understand that if
I ride to the top of the hill and turn to the right, I'll reach
Glenwood?"
"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 dark
horse 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 counted
slowly one by one the towers of the university buildings. This she did
merely from habit; for the expression remained unchanged on her
melancholy face. At length the gray eyes dropped to the water and fixed
their gaze upon a fishing boat turning toward the shore. A few moments
before it had been but a black speck near the lighthouse; but as it came
nearer Flea distinctly saw the two men and the boy in it. Upon the bow
of the boat was perched Snatchet, a yellow terrier, his short ears
perked up with happiness at the prospect of supper. When the craft
touched shore the girl rose and ran toward it. Almost in fear, she
searched the face of the youth at the rudder with eyes so like his own
that they seemed rather a reflection than another pair. She said no word
until she took her position beside the boy on the shore, slipping her
hand 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 of
the 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 trouser
leg slowly up.
"Damn knee!" he groaned. "It gets so twisted! And sometimes I can't
walk."
"Be ye goin' to steal again tonight?" asked the girl, bending toward
him.
"Yep, with Pappy Lon and Lem. I hate it all, I do!" he cried
impetuously.
"What makes ye go? Take a lickin', an' I bet ye'll stay to hum. I
would!"
With a spiteful shake of the black curls, she rubbed a bare toe over
Snatchet's yellow back.
"I wish I was a boy," she went on. "While I hate stealin', I'd do it to
have ye stay to hum, Flukey; then ye'd get well. And--"
She broke off abruptly and lowered her eyes to the shore, where Lem and
Lon were in earnest conversation. At the same moment Lon looked up and
shouted a command:
"Flea gal, Flea gal, come down here to me!"
Flea dropped the hand of her brother, moved directly to the water's
edge, and stood quietly until Lon chose to speak.
Lem Crabbe's eyes devoured the slight young figure, his smile contorting
the corners of his whiskered mouth. One hand rested on the bow of the
boat, while the long, rusty hook, sharp at the point and thick ironed at
the top, protruded from the other coat-sleeve.
At last Lon Cronk began to speak deliberately, and the girl gave him her
attention.
"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, "and
it ain't the wust in the world--that of takin' what ye want from them
that have plenty. It's time for ye to be doin' somethin', too. Ye'll go
to Lem's Scow, Flea."
"To Lem's scow?" exclaimed Flea. "That ain't no place for a kid, and
nobody 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 his
sister. "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 be
heard as they rolled white on the shore. A change passed over Flea, and
she clutched fiercely at her brother's fingers. It was as if she had
said, "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 out
Flukey, catching his breath after the shock. "She's perferrin' to stay
with 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 her
brother's insistence.
"Who said as how Lem wanted ye to marry him?" sneered Lon, eying her
from 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 be
to it!"