“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.”