It was the thought of the time when he had loved her so, and not of the food he had brought, that forced Scraggy to the door.  She flung it open, and the scowman entered.

“I thought ye might be hungry, Scraggy; so I brought ye this bread,” said Lem, lifting the hook and sending a ray from the lantern upon the woman.  “Can I set down?”

Could he, this king among men to her, could he sit down in her hut?  He could have had her heart’s blood had he asked it!  Had she not crowned him that day, when he had stood awkwardly by, as she tendered him a dark-haired baby boy?  Scraggy’s happiness knew no bounds.  She forgot her fatigue and set forth a chair for Lem.

“Be ye glad to see me, Scraggy?” asked he presently, crossing his legs and watching her as she lighted some candles.

“More’n glad,” she replied simply.  “But what did ya come for, Lemmy?”

Lem remained silent for some seconds; then said: 

“Do ye want to come back to the scow, Scraggy?”

“Ye mean to live?”

Lem shoved out his hairy chin.

“Yep, to live,” said he.

“Did ye come to ask me back, Lemmy?”

“Yep, or I wouldn’t have been here.  I’ve been thinkin’ our fambly oughter be together.”

“Fambly!” echoed Screech Owl wonderingly.

“Yep, Scraggy.  We’ll get the boy again, and all of us’ll live on the scow.”

His swarthy face went yellow in the candlelight, and the huge goiter under his chin evidenced by its movements the emotion through which he was passing.  Scraggy had sunk to the floor.  Now she crawled nearer him, staring at his face with wonder-widened eyes.

“Do ye mean, Lemmy, that ye love yer pretty boy brat well enough to want him on the scow, and that he can eat all he wants?”

“That’s what I mean,” grunted Lem.

“And that ye mean me to tell him what ye says, Lemmy, and that ye want me to bring him back?”

“Yep.”

Scraggy had drawn closer and closer to Lem, her sad face wrinkling into deeper lines.  With each uttered word Lem had seen that he had conquered her.  Suddenly he dropped his heavy left hand down on the gray head and kept it there.

For the first time in many weary years Scraggy Peterson was kneeling before her man.  Now he wanted her!  He had asked her to come again to that precious haven of rest, and to bring the child!  Scraggy forgot that the babe she had passed through the barge window was grown to be a man, forgot that he might not want to come back to the scow with her and his father.

Lem drew her close between his heavy knees and touched her withered chin with his fingers.

“Where be the brat, Scraggy?” he wheedled.

Screech Owl lifted her head and drew back frightened.  Something warned her that she must not tell him where his son lived.

“I’ll get him for ye,” she said doggedly.

“Where be he?” demanded the scowman.