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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Ye lie, Flea!" moaned Flukey. "Yer belly's as empty as Squeaky's or Snatchet's. I've got to get ye somethin' to eat." Nevertheless, without resistance, he allowed her to help him through the large gate, and they struck off into the older part of the cemetery.
Suddenly the little hen turned tail and flew across over the soft earth, uttering frightened cackles; but her flight was slow compared to Snatchet's. He came scurrying behind her, snapping a tail feather loose with each onward bound, utterly oblivious of the two strong voices calling his name.
This time she spoke more loudly and advanced a step. "Where are ye?" A familiar whine gave her Snatchet's whereabouts. She felt her way along the right wall, and as she passed each animal she spoke tenderly to it. Upon reaching the little mongrel, Fledra placed her face down close to him. The glitter of his shining eyes, the warm contact of his wet tongue, brought tears from her.
Take a lickin', an' I bet ye'll stay to hum. I would!" With a spiteful shake of the black curls, she rubbed a bare toe over Snatchet's yellow back. "I wish I was a boy," she went on. "While I hate stealin', I'd do it to have ye stay to hum, Flukey; then ye'd get well. And " She broke off abruptly and lowered her eyes to the shore, where Lem and Lon were in earnest conversation.
"So he ought to die!" said another. "He were hungry," explained Flukey, turning on Snatchet's accuser. "Mister, if ye'll let my dorg live " Before he could finish the child had interrupted him. "That dog ought to die for killing my Bess!" Flea pushed past Flukey and stood before the little girl.
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