“Sister Ann,” she gasped, “can’t ye keep us from him?  Fluke nor me don’t want to go, and Pappy Lon don’t like us, either.  I couldn’t go—­I’d ruther die, I would!  He’d make me go to Lem’s scow!  Ye can see I can’t go, can’t you?” She wheeled around and looked at Horace, her eyes filled with a frightened appeal.  Shellington’s glance was compassionate and tender.

“I not only see that you can’t go,” said he; “but I will see to it that you 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’s Flukey?” He made a move toward the door; but Horace thrust his big form in front of him.

“The boy shall not know that you are here,” said he.  “I shall keep it from him because he’s ill, and because a great worry like this might seriously 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 or alive!”

Shellington noted the hatred and menace in the other’s tones, and he smiled in triumph.

“It’s about as I thought, Mr. Cronk.  You care no more for these children than if they were animals.  That statement you just made will go against you at the proper time, all right.  Please go now, and remember what I’ve said, that you have the law.  And remember another thing:  if you do fight, I shall bring everything I can find against you, if I have to ask the 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 eyes pierced into the soul of Fledra.  She shuddered and drew closer to Miss Shellington.  The squatter walked toward the door, and once more looked back, an evil expression crossing his face and settling in deep lines about his mouth.

“Ye remember what I told ye, Flea, the last time I seed ye!  I meant what I 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 a set face, replied: 

“Ye can’t have us, Pappy Lon—­you can’t!  I’ll take care of Flukey, and Mr. Shellington’ll take care—­of—­me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Horace set his teeth firmly as he closed the door, upon Cronk.  Through the door window he saw the squatter take his lumbering way down the steps, and noticed that the man paused and looked back at the house.  The heavy face was black with baffled rage, and Lon raised his fist and shook it threateningly.  If Horace had been determined in the first instant that the squatter should not get possession of the twins, he was now many times more resolute to keep to his decision.  For his life, he could not imagine Lon Cronk the father of his young charges.

He returned to the drawing-room, and found Ann and Fledra still together, the girl’s face hidden in Miss Shellington’s lap.