To Horace Shellington it seemed many hours before the small, jerky train
that ran between Auburn and Ithaca drew into the latter city. In his
eagerness to reach the squatter settlement without loss of time, he
hastened from the car into the station. He knew that it would be far
into 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 little
window in the station he hurriedly demanded of the agent a mode of
conveyance 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; "but
you might see if Middy Burnes could take you down the lake. He's got a
tug, 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 Burnes
poked a bald head out of the door and asked his business. In a few words
Shellington made known his wants. The tugman threw the door wider and
scratched his head as he cogitated:
"Mister, it'll take me a plumb hour to get the fire goin' good in that
tug. If ye can wait that long, till I get steam up, I'll be glad to take
ye." So, presently the two walked together toward the inlet where the
boat was tied.
"Who do you want to see down the lake this time of the year?" asked
Burnes, with a sidelong look at his tall companion.
"Lon Cronk."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Middy. "I jest brought him and Lem Crabbe up from
Tarrytown, with one of Lon's kids. She's a pretty little 'un. I pity
her, 'cause she didn't do nothin' but cry all the way up, and once she
jumped into the lake."
"Did what?"
The sharpness of Shellington's voice told Middy that this news was of
moment.
"Well, ye see, 'tain't none of my business, 'cause the gal belongs to
Lon; but, if she was mine, I wouldn't give her to no Lem Crabbe. Lem
said 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 pulled
her out quicker'n scat."
With fear in his heart, Horace waited on deck for Burnes to get up
steam, and it seemed an interminable time before the tug at last drew
lazily from the inlet bridge, and, swinging round under Middy's
experienced hand, started slowly down the black stream.
* * * * *
Ann closed the shanty door after seeing the governor and his two
companions disappear up the hill, and smiled at Fledra with shining
eyes. The wonderful events of the evening had taken place in such rapid
order that she had no time to express her happiness to the girl. She
opened her arms, and Fledra darted into them.
"It's all because you prayed, Sister Ann," she sobbed, "and because you
taught me how to pray. Does--does Horace know about my new father and
mother?"
"No, Dear; he left Tarrytown before we ourselves knew. We received a
telegram 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 find
this place empty."
"Of course not," the girl sighed impatiently. "Oh, I hope he comes
soon!"
Her soul burned for a sight of him. He had been the first to fly to her
rescue, even when he had thought her but a squatter girl. He had not
shrunk from the dangers of the settlement, and, in spite of the peril of
Lem and Lon, he had been willing to drag her away from harm for the love
of 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 the
happiest girl in the world!"
"I'm happy, all right," said Fledra gravely; "only, I feel sorry for
Katherine. Somehow, we changed Daddies, didn't we?"
"Yes, Dear, and I feel for her too," lamented Ann. "I can't see how
she's going to bear it."
"Maybe she's been a praying," said Fledra, "as I did when I thought I
was coming to Lem. It does help a lot."
"Dear child, dear heart," murmured Ann, "your faith is greater than
mine! 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, and
she hesitated before she continued. "Fledra, will you tell me something
about Mr. Brimbecomb? I mean--you know--the trouble you spoke of in your
letter 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 were
reproachful.
Ann, with a smile, kissed the girl.
"Dear, unselfish child," said she, "don't you understand that, if he
hadn't gone, you wouldn't have your strong, big father, nor would little
Floyd be now with his mother?"
"Maybe our mother'll make Floyd well," cried Fledra. "Oh, she couldn't
help but love him, could she, Sister Ann?"
"And it will be impossible for her not to love you, Deary," exclaimed
Ann, wiping her eyes. "But now you must dress. Have you still the
clothes you wore away from home?"
"Yes, I have them; but they're all mussed. I fell in the lake, and got
them 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, and
her last words were uttered in the darkness of the loft.
Ann could hear the girl moving about overhead, and heard the dragging of
a box across the floor. Then another sound broke upon her ears, and
before she could move toward the door it opened, and a shabby, one-armed
man shuffled in, followed by Everett Brimbecomb.
* * * * *
After Everett had disappeared across the little bridge, Scraggy closed
the rickety door of her hut and went fidgeting about in the littered
room. 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 child
when the hurt is deep and the child's mother is not near. She still
missed Black Pussy, and when she thought of the loss of her only friend
wilder paroxysms of frenzied grief filled the shanty.
After one of her raving fits of crying more vehement than those
preceding, Black Pussy again came to her mind, and suddenly she was
taken back to the wintry night she had lost him. Feebly she put the
events of that evening together, one by one, until like a burst of light
the memory of her boy came to her. Not once hitherto had she remembered
him since his blow had sent her into unconsciousness. Now she recalled
how roughly her son had handled her, and she did not forget his threat
to kill her if she ever mentioned to anyone that she was his mother. She
recognized, too, the identity of the stranger who had asked her the way
to the scow but a little while before.
A sane expression came into her eyes, and she settled herself back to
think. With her pondering came a clear thought--her boy was seeking his
father! Still somewhat dazed, she tottered to one corner of the hut and
fumbled 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'll
eat all he wants, and his little hand'll smooth my face when my head
aches!"
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 that
led to the tracks bringing her to a standstill. Several persons were
approaching her. They came steadily nearer, passed the footpath that led
to her hut, and she crept out. Two men and a woman were near enough for
Screech Owl to touch them, if she had put out her hand. She remained
perfectly quiet, and Lon Cronk's voice, muttering words she did not
understand, came to her through the underbrush. Then, in her joy,
Scraggy speedily forgot them, and, as she hurried down the hill sent out
cry after cry into the clear night.
* * * * *
For a long time Miss Shellington stood staring at Everett, and the man
as fixedly at her. The movements were still going on in the loft.
"How came you here?" cried Ann sharply, when she had at last gathered
her senses.
"I might ask you the same thing," replied Everett suavely. "This is
scarcely 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, and
that so long as she thought his actions were for Fledra's welfare she
would stand by him.
"I found out that these ruffians had taken her, and I came after her. I
thought a good school would be better than this." He swept his hand over
the hut, and did not notice the expression that flitted across Ann's
face.
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; "she
knows me too well."
"I do believe him," said Ann. "I saw the letter you lost, which Fledra
wrote you. You dropped it in our drawing-room. Horace found it."
Everett saw his fall coming. He would not be worsted by this woman, who
had believed once that he was the soul of truth. To lose her and the
prestige of her family, and to lose also Fledra, was more than he would
endure. He bounded forward and grasped her arm fiercely.
"Where is that squatter girl? I'll stand nothing from you or that
brother of yours! Where is he, and where is she?"
Ann stood silently praying for strength. So plainly had Everett shown
his colors that she felt disgust grow in her heart, although her eyes
were directed straight upon him. She hoped that the girl in the loft
upstairs would not come down until Governor Vandecar returned. Again she
sent up a soul-moving petition for help.
"You can't have her!" she said, trying to speak calmly. "She is going to
marry my brother, Everett."
Just then Fledra, robed in her own clothes, scrambled to the top rung of
the ladder. She paused halfway down and glanced over the scene below
with unbelieving eyes.
"Go back up, Fledra," commanded Ann.
"I don't think she'll go back up," gritted Brimbecomb. "Come down!" He
advanced a step, with his hand upon his hip. "I've something to coax you
with," he declared in an undertone. "It is this!"
Fledra saw the revolver, noted the expression on the man's face, and
stepped slowly down the ladder. The silence of the moment that followed
was broken by several loud hoots of an owl. The first one seemed in
direct proximity to the hut; the last ones came faintly from the shore
of the lake.
When she saw the gun, Ann whitened to the ears, and the threat in
Everett's eyes caused Lem to gurgle in his throat, as if he would speak
but could not.
"I told you," said Everett, with his lips close to Fledra's ear, "that
I would use any means to get you.... Stand aside there--you two!"
He turned his flashing eyes upon the scowman and Ann, and, placing his
arm about Fledra, drew her forward. The girl was so dazed at the turn of
affairs that she allowed Everett to drag her, unresisting, half the
length of the room. Then her glance moved upward to Ann. Miss
Shellington's face was as pallid as death, and her horrified look at
Everett brought Fledra to her senses. The girl looked appealingly at
Lem. The scowman's squinted eyes and the contortions of his face caused
Fledra to cry out:
"Lem, Lem, save me! save me!"
Crabbe drew his heavy body more compactly together, and, with his eyes
glued upon the revolver, advanced along the wall toward Brimbecomb. His
frightful wheezes and choking gulps attracted the lawyer's attention to
him, and the gun was suddenly leveled at his breast.
"Stand back there, Crabbe!" ordered Everett. "You have nothing to do
with this."
But, as the lawyer spoke, Lem sprang forward with the fierceness of a
wild beast. Instantly followed the report of a revolver; but the bullet
went wide and sunk into the opposite wall, for, as Everett aimed at Lem,
Fledra twisted and struck his arm so heavily that his fingers loosened
and the weapon clattered across the room.
The impact of the scowman's body bore the lawyer down, while Fledra was
thrown away from the struggle by a sweep of Lem's left arm. Ann was
petrified with fear; but this did not keep her from picking up the girl
from 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 his
great brown fist struck Everett full in the face. She saw the hook flash
in the candlelight, then bury its glittering prong in the other's neck.
Everett screamed once, then was silent; for with his unmaimed hand the
scowman had grasped his enemy's throat and was shaking the body as a dog
does a rat. In his frenzy, Lem threshed and tumbled Brimbecomb about on
the hut floor, the sight of his rival's blood sending him mad; and
always the sound of his gasps and chokes rose above the struggle. Of a
sudden the gurgles in the throat of the scowman ceased, his face became
purple black, and it seemed to Ann that his blood must burst through the
thick 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 in
a heap on the floor.
Suddenly the door opened, and Scraggy Peterson staggered into the hut.