“What ye lookin’ at?” he growled.  “Keep your eyes to hum, and quit a staring at me!” Fledra shrank back.  “And I hate ye in them glad rags!” Lon thundered out.  “Jerk ’em off, and put on some of them togs of Granny Cronk’s!  Yer a squatter, and ye’d better dress and talk like one!  Do ye hear?”

“Yes, Pappy Lon,” murmured Fledra, dropping her eyes.

“I ain’t said yet when ye was to go to Lem’s hut; but, when I do, don’t ye kick up no row, and ye’d best do as Lem tells ye, or he’ll take the sass out of yer hide!”

“I wish I could stay with you,” ventured Fledra sorrowfully; but to this Lon did not reply.  After breakfast she was left alone in the hut, and she could hear the loud talking of the tugmen and see Lem working on the scow.

Soon Middy Burnes’ tug steamed away toward Ithaca, and Fledra knew that she was alone with no creature between her and Lem but Lon Cronk.

When Lon and Lem returned, the hut was tidy.  Fledra had hoped that if she made it so Lon might want her to stay.  She could be of much use about the shanty.  Neither of the men spoke for awhile, and Fledra held her peace, as she sat by the low hut-window and gazed thoughtfully out upon the lake.  In the distance she could see the east shore but dimly.  Several fishing boats ran up the lake toward town.  A flock of spring birds swept breezily over the water and sought the shade of the forest.  Suddenly Lem rose up, stretched his legs, yawned, and said: 

“I’m goin’ out, Lon, and I’ll be back in a little while.  Ye’d best be a thinkin’ of what I said,” he cautioned, “and keep yer eyes skinned for travelers.”

“All right.  Don’t be gone long, Lem,” responded Lon.  Fledra was not too abstracted to notice the uneasy tone in the squatter’s voice.

“Nope; I’m only goin’ up the hill.”

Lem had decided to reconnoiter for Scraggy.  He was filled with a fear that she might be dead; for he had left her in the hut unconscious.  He climbed the hill, and, rounding her shanty, drew nearer, and peeped into the window.  A piece of bread lying on the table, and a few embers burning on the grate bolstered up his hope that he had not committed murder.  He drew a sigh of relief.

* * * * *

Presently, after the departure of Lem, Lon stirred his feet, dragged himself up in the chair, and turned upon the girl.  Her heart beat wildly with hope.  If he would allow her to stay in the hut with him, she would ask nothing better.  His consent would come as a direct answer to prayer.  How hard she would work if Floyd and Horace were safe!  Cronk coughed behind his hand.

“Flea, turn yer head ’bout here; I want to talk to ye,” he said.

The girl got up and came to his side.  She was a pathetic little figure, drooping in great fear, and hoping against hope that he would spare her.  She had dressed as he had ordered, and at her feet dragged a worn skirt of Granny Cronk’s.  With trembling fingers she hitched the calico blouse up about her shoulders.