e
seekin' Flukey and me! The bats be flyin' in her head!"

Screech Owl, ignorant of the children's proximity, went straight on,
gliding over the graves until she stopped before the stone mansion at
the edge of the graveyard. A light shone from the room, and the woman
stole directly under it. A tall, handsome young man, his gaze centered
thoughtfully upon the dark aspect, stood in the window. Flea saw
Screechy hold out her arms toward him with an appealing gesture. He
lifted his hand suddenly and drew down the shade, and his broad
shoulders were silhouetted against it in sharp, black lines. After that
the breathless girl saw the woman turn and stumble past her without a
sound.

"The bats left her head the minute that there winder got dark!" gasped
the watcher. Tremblingly she drew closer to Flukey, until sleep
overpowered her.

* * * * *

The next day passed slowly, the cold rain lasting until almost
nightfall, and yet the children dared not venture into the town. Flea
fumed and fretted; for the earning of the nickel had whetted her
ambition to earn more. Now she dared not go near the river where work
could be found; but she knew that as soon as the tug appeared Lem
Crabbe would go to New York. Probably by this time the scow was far on
its way down the river. This was the decision at which the squatter
twins arrived after weary hours of waiting. So, when the twilight again
fell over the dead, they rose stiffly from their hiding place and limped
to the road.

"We'll go back to the graveyard tonight, if this ain't the good land,"
murmured Flea. "We'll be safe there from Lem, Fluke."

"Wish we was rich like we was that fair-day, Flea," replied the boy,
scarcely able to walk.

"I wish so, too. If we had that yeller gold-piece we coughed up for that
damn brown hen, we'd eat. But I'd ruther have Snatchet, Fluke."

"I'd ruther have him, too; but we need money--"

"And when we get it," interrupted Flea, "Snatchet'll have a hunk of
meat, and Prince Squeaky a bucket of buttermilk, and ye'll have liniment
for yer legs, Fluke."

"Ye'll eat yerself first, Flea," said Flukey. "I saw ye when ye give the
pig a bit of yer biscuit yesterday mornin'."

"We'll all eat in the good land," replied Flea hopefully.

By this time they had come to the gateway and turned into the street.
Harold Brimbecomb's beautiful home was brilliantly lighted. It appeared
the same to Flea as on the night before, whe