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Updated: June 28, 2025
Through the dim light she could see the scrawny greyhounds pulling at their leashes as she fumbled at the wire-mesh door. Whines from several of the dogs made Fledra step inside, whence she glanced out misgivingly to see if she had been observed. "Snatchet!" she whispered. From a distant corner she heard the rattle of a chain. "Snatchet!" she called again.
So great had been Flea's excitement at the catching of the pig that she had given no heed to the dog. Flukey had handed the little fellow to her, and she had let him go. Suddenly an appalling spectacle rose before her. On an elevated spot, a few feet from the greased pole, Snatchet stood poised in view of hundreds of curious eyes. His short stubby tail had straightened out like a stick.
"Kid, I don't blame ye for cryin' for yer hen," she began; "but my brother ain't got no dog but Snatchet, an' if ye'll let him live I'll give ye this bit of gold I got for catchin' the pig." A murmur followed her words, and the tears dried in the blue eyes looking up at her. "Here little 'un, chuck it in yer pocket," said Flea, straightening her shoulders, "and it'll buy another hen."
She was eying Snatchet impudently, daring him to approach her by perking her wee head saucily first on one side and then on the other. Snatchet, pressed on by hunger beating at his lean sides, slid rigidly a pace nearer. A cry went up from a childish voice. "He'll kill my Queen Bess! Father Oh! Father!" Flukey's voice, calling to his dog, rose high above the clamor.
It was the first exquisite joy that had come to Flukey Cronk. He stopped and disengaged his hand, to press it to his side as a pain made him gasp for breath. Then of a sudden he sank to the polished floor, still clinging to Snatchet. "Missus," he muttered, "I can't walk no more. Jest ye leave me here and git the grub for Flea." Flea turned sharply. "I don't eat when ye're sick, Fluke.
The girl's voice had settled to a cry, and, just as Flukey, panting and tired, reached the dog, Snatchet snapped up the hen, shook her fiercely, and settled down to his meal. In an instant Flukey had dragged the beating body from his teeth, kicked him soundly with his bare foot, and held out the dead hen to a man whose face was darkened by anger.
Fledra removed Snatchet and returned to the living-cabin, as Lon had suggested. "I want to talk to you before I sit down," she said in a low tone. "What are you going to do with me?" Just then the scow lurched, and the whistle of the tug ahead screamed a farewell to Tarrytown. Fledra heard the grinding of the boat against the landing as it was pulled slowly away, and she sprang to the window.
She dropped Snatchet and caught the greased pig in her arms. She hugged him up to her breast and, turning flashing eyes upon the people staring at her, said: "Poor little baby piggy! He's scared almost to death." "You've caught the greased pig!" somebody shouted. "You can have him he's yours!" "Ye mean mine to keep?" Flea demanded of the man who had cheered on the boys.
Snatchet was hugged tight in Flukey's arms; for other dogs laid back their ears and growled at the yellow cur. Suddenly they came upon the athletic field. Here, reared high in the air, was a slender greased pole, on the top of which fluttered a five-dollar bill. Several youngsters, dressed in bathing suits, awaited the hour when they should be allowed to try and win the money.
Shaking with anxiety, she allowed her eyes to rove about until they riveted themselves upon two glittering spots peering at her over the top step from the shadow of the stairway. A low growl from Snatchet did not disturb the fascination the evil eyes held for her. It seemed as if goblin hands reached out to touch her; as if supernatural objects and evil human things menaced her from all sides.
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