She sent no glance at Ann, nor did she see Fledra shrinking in the
corner. No thought came to her weak brain save of the two men at grips
with 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, the
lust of killing still blazing in his eyes. He had heard the woman's
words, and as he slowly grasped the import of them he turned over and
raised his head while pulling desperately at his throat.
"Oh, Lemmy, love," she murmured, "ye've killed him this time! He's
dead!" 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 go
her hold on Fledra, and, with Scraggy, bent over Everett. "Oh, he
breathes! But he isn't your son?"
"Yep; he be Lemmy's boy and mine," answered Scraggy, lifting her eyes
once more to Ann. "Look! He were hurt here by the hook when he were a
baby." She drew aside Everett's tattered shirt-front and displayed a
long 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 sick
like 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 the
bestest boy in the hull world!" Here she placed an arm under Everett's
neck; throwing the other about Lem, she drew the two men together before
she resumed. "And Lemmy was the bestest man and pappy that anybody ever
see!"
* * * * *
Screech Owl's last words were nearly drowned by the shrill whistle of a
steamer. A minute later Ann and Fledra heard running footsteps coming
from the direction of the lake. There was no knock; but a quick jerk of
the 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 the
group 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. Once
the brilliant eyes of Brimbecomb opened and flashed bewilderedly about
the 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 little
word!"
"Wait, Dear," said Horace. "We're doing all we can.... I believe that
man over there is dead."
He made a motion as if to lean over the scowman; but Scraggy pushed him
back.
"No, my Lemmy ain't dead," she wailed, "course he ain't dead!" She
placed 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 the
left hand groped weakly about, and Scraggy, with a sob, lifted the arm
and put it about her. Had the others in the room been mindful of the
action, they would have seen the man's muscles tighten about the woman's
thin 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 Scraggy
heard, and crawled from Lem to Miss Shellington's side.
"Missus, will ye tell my little boy-brat that his mammy be here? Will ye
say as how I loved him--him and Lemmy, allers?"
Her haggard face was close to Ann's, and the latter took in every word
of the low-spoken petition. Miss Shellington bent over the dying man.
"Everett," she said brokenly, "your own mother is here, and she wants
you to speak to her."
Brimbecomb partly rose, and, in scanning those in the hut, his eyes fell
upon Screech Owl. The tense agony seemed for an instant to leave his
face, 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 when
Vandecar came in Everett, too, was dead. Then, at last, Scraggy moved
toward the door, and, with the same wild cry that had haunted the
settlement for so many years, sprang out into the night.
* * * * *
From her hiding place in the gulch, Scraggy saw Vandecar and the rest
mount the hill. When they had disappeared, she slunk down the lane and
made straight for Lon's hut. With dread in her eyes, she stood for
sometime before the dark shanty, and then swayed forward to the window.
When she reached it, superstition forced her back; but love proved
stronger than fear, and she looked into the room. So dark was it within
that she could see only the white mound on the floor--the mound made by
the dead father and son. They were hers--all that was left of the men
she had loved always! Scraggy tried the door; but found it locked. Then
she attempted to move the window; but it, too, had been fastened. With a
stone she hammered out the glass, making an opening through which she
dragged her body. As she stood there in silent gloom, the very air
seemed to hang heavy with death. In the dark Scraggy broke out into
sobs, and was seized with spasms of shivering; she had no strength to
move forward or backward.
But again love drove her on, and some seconds passed before she found
matches to light the candle. When the dim flame lighted up the room, she
turned slowly to the middle of the floor. Tremblingly she drew down the
covering and looked upon her dead. They were hers--these men were hers
even in death! Chokingly she stifled her sobs, and then the decision
came to her that she would keep a night vigil until break of day. Of the
two, 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! ye
nuther one of ye knows how she loves ye! There weren't no men in the
hull 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 ye
both till the day."
Saying this, she crouched low between Crabbe and Brimbecomb, and,
encircling each neck with an arm, thrust her face down close between
them.
Lon Cronk's old clock on the shelf ticked out the minutes into the
somberness of the hut. The waves of the lake, breaking ceaselessly upon
the shore, softened the harsh, uneven croaks of the marsh-frogs with
their harmony. Through the broken window drifted the night noises, and
the wind fluttered the candle-flame weakly. Suddenly Screech Owl thought
she heard a voice--a voice filled with tender sympathy and pathos.
Without disengaging her arms, she lifted herself and searched with dim
eyes even the corners of the hut. Misty forms shaded to ghost-gray
seemed to steal out and group themselves about her dead. She took her
arm from Everett and brushed back the straggling locks that blurred her
sight.
The voice spoke again, pronouncing her name in low, even tones. Once
more she wound her arm about Everett, and pressed herself down between
her beloveds. Her eyes, protruding and fearful, saw the candlelight grow
dimmer.
"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 the
pain of the intermittent flutterings of her heart. She fell lower, and
with a last weak effort drew the heads closer together. Then Scraggy's
spirit, which had ever sought her lover and her son, took flight out
into 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't
you turn and--look at--her?"
Fledra was standing at her father's side, and now for an instant she
looked down into the blue eyes through which she saw the yearning heart
of her mother. Then she knelt down with Floyd, and they rested their
heads in tearful silence under the hands of these dear ones, who
trembled 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 squatter
where his diseased mind could be treated, and he had insisted that his
own name and home should be Katharine's, the same as of yore. It was not
until Mildred opened the door and entered hesitantly that he raised his
head. 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 as
comfortable as he could. She had borne up well under the tragedy, and
smiled at him bravely as he left for Vandecar's. The governor met him in
the 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 are
many 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. "After
I 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 the
servant.
After a moment they heard her coming through the hall. Vandecar placed
his hand upon Horace's arm; but the young man flung it off as the door
opened and Fledra came in. Her face was still pale and wan. Her eyes
darkened by circles, testified to the misery of the days since she had
left him. Horace spoke her name softly, held out his arms, and she fled
into them. He pressed her head closely to his breast, smoothing the
black curls, while blinding tears coursed down his face. The governor
turned from them to the window. He stood there, until Horace asked
huskily:
"Fledra, Fledra, do you still love me? Oh, say that you do! I'm
perishing to be forgiven for my lack of faith in you. Can you forgive
me, beloved?"
"I love you, Horace," she murmured, lifting bright, shy eyes. "And I
love my beautiful mother, too, and--oh, I--worship my splendid father."
She held out one hand to Governor Vandecar, over which the father closed
his 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 help
Floyd till he walks as well as ever. Then I'm goin' to study and read
till my father's satisfied. Then, after that," she turned a radiant
glance on both men, and ended, "when he wants me, I'll go with my
Prince."