at the windows
Waldstricker had described.

Attracted by a sound to his right, he wheeled about and saw Tessibel
coming down the hill. His breath came sharply through his dark teeth.
Never had the girl been so desirable, and for the instant, he felt
possessed to rush upon her, to take her in his arms, to hold her close.
Then, Waldstricker came into his mind. Before he worked his will on the
squatter girl, he must find out the name of the unknown man. He had to
please the elder to get the rest of the money. But to speak to her would
be all right. He might discover something. He walked stealthily through
the trees and placed himself so that when the girl turned toward the
house, she would meet him face to face.

Tess was humming happily. When her eyes rested upon Lysander Letts, she
stopped.

"Hello, brat!" grinned Sandy.

The girl didn't answer. His prison pallor fascinated her. It contrasted
so sharply with the wind-tanned brown of the swarthy skin she
remembered. All the accumulated horror of him, which had been forgotten
while he was safely restrained at Auburn, swept over her.

"I said hello!" sniggered the other, once more. "Ain't ye glad to see
me?"

Ignoring his question, the frightened girl assumed a haughtiness quite
unusual, and in her turn questioned coldly,

"What do you want?"

"What do I want?" mocked Letts, not a whit disturbed by her manner. "I
want you!"

Tessibel stepped to one side, but the squatter put himself in front of
her, again.

"Now none of yer foolin'," he growled, and he added to his remarks a
collection of sulphurous epithets.

"Sandy," commanded the young woman, still in her grand manner, "step out
of my way! Right now! Do you hear?"

Unmoved, her drunken tormentor flung up his arms, hands open in assumed
disgust.

"Well, hark to the way the squatter girl's talkin', will ye?" he
sneered. "I'll take that outten ye, kid, afore I've had ye long. Where
air yer brat?"

The brown eyes, responsive to his suggestion, glanced toward the house.
There was Boy coming slowly up the little path toward her. He dearly
enjoyed the rare occasions when visitors came, and his face lighted up
when he saw the man talking to his mother.

"Boy, run back home," she called.

Sandy made a dash down the hill toward the child, shouting curses and
commands to him.

"Wait, kid! Don't ye move! I want ye."

The young mother instantly flew after him. Her swift feet took her on
and on, up to and pa