Then a prolonged sigh drifted from the garret.

"My God, Orn, but she air a fine young thing fer ye to be fatherin',
huh? Ain't she?"

Andy's voice, though but little more than a whisper, expressed his
wonder and admiration.

"God's best," muttered Orn, and once more they lapsed into the
companionable silence of good friends.

CHAPTER III

TESSIBEL MEETS WALDSTRICKER

The shanty door closed behind Tessibel, and her hand still on the knob,
she hesitated a moment before starting for Mother Moll's. The girl had
kept her promise of the year before, for every week she had caught and
cleaned a mess of fish and carried them up the ravine to the woman's
shanty. But today, Tess wanted to consult the seeress about Andy. She
believed implicitly in the fortune-pot. Hadn't the old, old hag told
her, long ago, when Daddy Skinner was in prison, that the state couldn't
hurt him, and other things, too?

Turning into the lane up the hill, she met Sandy Letts carrying his drag
and a great coil of rope.

"Hello, kid," he greeted her. "How air yer Daddy?"

He eased his load to the ground and straightened up, slowly stretched
his mighty arms, and shrugged the stiffness out of his powerful
shoulders. Sandy and his burden filled most of the path.

Tess, desiring to avoid contact with him, stopped a few paces away.

"Daddy ain't so well these days, Sandy," she answered. "His heart hurts
'im."

"Ain't that too bad?" the man sympathized. "But, then, brat, yer daddy
ain't so young as he were once. Reckon he air not long fer this world.
When yer Daddy croaks, what'll you do, Tess? Ye'll need a home. Ye ought
to be gettin' a man."

The squatter'd stepped forward directly in front of her while he was
urging his suit.

"My daddy ain't old an' he ain't goin' to die, uther," flared Tess, an
angry light in her brown eyes. Oh, how she loathed and hated this fellow
who blocked her way! "You shan't say such things about my daddy! I don't
want any man but 'im." Noting his unshaven cheeks, loose hanging lips,
the lips and his large irregular teeth discolored with tobacco, the girl
drew back with a gesture of instinctive repulsion. "I wouldn't take you
anyway."

Instead of answering her, the squatter placed his great hands upon her
shoulders, and holding her thus at arm's length, looked down at her. Her
straight young figure, glowing face, and flaming eyes under the ruddy
aureole of her hair made a picture of grace, beauty and passi