"Where air it?"

"Down behind the college hill, many a stretch for yer short legs from the squatter's settlement, and many a day when bread's short and water's plenty, 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 stay without Flukey!" she cried.

"I ain't a tellin' ye what ye want to do; only how the shadders run. But that's a weary day off. The good land be yers and Flukey's for the seekin' 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't make him."

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AM I ON THE RIGHT ROAD TO GLENWOOD?"]

"Be I goin' to--" Flea sat back on her bare toes, her face suddenly darkening with rage. "I won't go with him! I won't, Screechy, if he was in 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 two before; 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, a whirlin' and a whirlin' after ye. I see it a stealin' on ye in the night when ye think ye're safe. I see the sharp p'int of it a stickin' into yer soft flesh--"

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

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

Flea grasped the woman's arm between her fingers and pressed nearer Scraggy with a startled cry. The cat, hissing, lashed a bushy tail from side 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 head of Cayuga Lake and was rowed toward the western sh.o.r.es. As before, two men and a boy were in it. The lad was still at the rudder, while the men swiftly cut the water stroke by stroke. For three miles down the lake no one spoke; but when the boat sc.r.a.ped the sh.o.r.e in front of his hut Lon broke 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 I wouldn'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 a Sat.u.r.day 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 she don't--"

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

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

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

"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 to beat a thing out of."

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

"Ye can go to bed, Flukey," said Lon. "Ye've done a good night's work--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 good for Flea, don't be settin' her up ag'in' my wishes, 'cause if she don't do 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 to the cabin.

When the shanty was quiet a girl's figure shrouded in black curls crawled 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 other side of the part.i.tion the sound of Lon's heavy snores, and from the corner came the lighter breathing of her brother. Through the small loft window the moonbeams shone, and by them Flea could see the boy's dark head and strong young arm under the ma.s.ses of thick hair.

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

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

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

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

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