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Updated: May 4, 2025
I love him so! And he's so good! And poor little Flukey is so sick, though he's gettin' better, and if I'm happy, then he'll get well! Don't ye love us one little bit, Pappy Lon?" She loosened her hold upon the table and neared the squatter. Cronk brushed his face awkwardly.
A more experienced observer than David would have grasped the significance of these maneuvers. But how was he to know that Ernie Cronk had been crouching in a sheltered doorway across the street, standing guard while his artful brother entered and ransacked the store whose awning now afforded him a comfortable refuge?
Everett's rage blotted out all remembrance of how he left the house; but there was a vivid picture in his mind of a woman, pale and lovely, opening the door and dismissing him coldly. He remembered also that she had shut the door as if it were never to be opened again to him. His only consolation was that before long he would be able to face Fledra Cronk and prove his power to her.
"Ye think Flukey mightn' get well?" Flea breathed. Ann turned anxious eyes upon the boy, who was muttering incoherently. "Poor little child! May Jesus help him!" she whispered. Flea rose to her feet. "Jesus! Jesus!" she repeated solemnly. "Granny Cronk used to talk about him.
Cronk and Dennis kept together for a short distance, and the latter saw that his friend had been drinking. Their steps led them near a large liquor-store which a party of men and boys were sacking. One of these, half intoxicated, handed Bill a bottle of whiskey, but as the drover was lifting it to his lips Dennis struck it to the ground. Cronk was in a rage instantly.
His flesh tingled; for he felt that he could almost touch her, and his heart clamored for the warmth of the tender body he had never forgotten. "God!" he moaned between his teeth, "if I could tech her once, jest for once, I'd let Flea stay to hum!" "Did ye speak, Lon?" asked Granny Cronk. "Nope; I were only a thinkin'." "Have ye changed yer mind 'bout Flea?"
"When a girl's gone cronk, like you, she must expect to see white things darting about. But I'll give you one more chance." "I think we better," suggested one of the voices. "There's nothing else for it," assented the other. By this time, the buggy had disappeared in the darkness. I heard it stop; then followed, with slight intervals, two unsyllabled sounds. "Over again," said Harry calmly.
He had not taken his eyes from the boy's, and a weakening of his knees compelled him to grip the back of the chair for support. With a voice thickened to huskiness, he stammered: "What what did you say your father's name was, boy?" "Lon Cronk, Sir and he's the worst man ye ever see. I bet he's the worst man in the state only Lem Crabbe! He beat my sister, and were makin' me a thief."
He fell asleep, thinking of those blissful moments under the awning when he held her slim, unresisting body close to his own and they were all alone in the blackest of nights with a tempest about them. In the background of his thoughts lurked Ernie Cronk and still farther back was the ominous figure of Colonel Bob Grand.
I will drink nothing but coffee, to-night, out of compliment to you." Cheered, comforted, and hopeful, Dennis sat down with his good Samaritan, and made a hearty supper, after which they parted with a strong friendly grip, and sincere good wishes, Cronk, the drover, going on further west, and Dennis to the rest he so sorely needed.
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