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Updated: May 16, 2025
Neither man spoke when she put Snatchet down on the floor and threw back the lovely cloak she had received from Ann at Christmas. Lem's eyes glittered as he looked at it. Before Fledra entered, the scowman had been industriously tacking a sole on a big leather boot, held tightly between his knees.
"Then, if ye has Flea, Lem," said Lon, looking keenly at the scowman, "and ye git yer share of money, ye has to share up yer half with me. See?" "Yep," muttered Lem. "Will ye bring the feller down here some day, and we'll talk it over?" Lon acquiesced by a nod of his head, saying only, "Come on out, and let's get a drink." "When's he goin' to git 'em Flea and Flukey, I mean?" "I dunno.
Lon Cronk and Lem Crabbe had arranged between them that the scowman should return to Ithaca for some days, and so the big thief was alone near the Hudson, in a shanty that had been given over to him by a canal friend to use when he wished.
"Certainly, I can swear it was whiskey! I saw it and smelled it." "Can you explain why Lapierre did not know of these pieces, until you called his attention to them?" Chloe hesitated a moment and tapped nervously on the table with her fingers. "Yes," she answered, "I can. Mr. Lapierre took charge of the outfit only that morning." "Who was the boss scowman? Who took the scows down the Athabasca?"
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?"
"Ye'll play with her till ye make her desprite," snarled Lem, "and when she be gone ye can holler the lungs out of ye, and she won't come back. If ye'd left her to me, I'd a drubbed her till she wouldn't think of Tarrytown. I says as how she comes to this scow tonight. Ye can't dicker with me like ye can with that kid, Lon!" Cronk narrowed his eyelids to slits and contemplated the scowman.
He turned his flashing eyes upon the scowman and Ann, and, placing his arm about Fledra, drew her forward. The girl was so dazed at the turn of affairs that she allowed Everett to drag her, unresisting, half the length of the room. Then her glance moved upward to Ann. Miss Shellington's face was as pallid as death, and her horrified look at Everett brought Fledra to her senses.
Then, in a state of great exhaustion, she picked up Black Pussy, blew out the candle, and, for the first time in many days, slept in her own hut. On the shore below Lem Crabbe's scow was drawn up near the Cronk hut. The squatter and scowman were conversing in the dim light of a lantern that swung from Lem's hook. "Did ye make any hauls while ye was gone, Lem?" asked Lon.
With a wrathful cry, the scowman jumped back, then lunged forward, wrenched the dog from Fledra's arms, and pitched him over the edge of the barge into the lake. The girl heard the dog give a frightened howl, and saw the splash of water in the moonlight as he fell. He was all she had a yellow bit she had taken with her from the promised land, a morsel of the life that both she and Floyd loved.
She glanced fearfully from Lon to the scowman, whose lips were now free of the nails. His wide smile disclosed his darkened teeth as he stammered: "Yer Granny Cronk's been chucked into a six-foot hole in the ground, and ye won't see her no more." Staring at the speaker, Fledra fell back against the wall. "Granny Cronk ain't dead! She ain't! You're lying, Lem Crabbe!"
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