r
brother had been transformed into another creature,--a passionate
creature, responding to the call of a dead woman, a man whose hatred
would carry him to fearful lengths.

The hoarse voice broke forth again:

"Midge darlin', dead baby, and all that ye had belongin' to me, I do it
for you! I'll steal his'n, and they'll suffer and suffer--"

He tossed up his great head with a jerk, crushing the sentiment from his
voice.

"But that don't make no matter now," he muttered. "I'm goin' to take his
kids! He's got two, an' he's prouder'n a turkey cock of 'em. I'll take
'em and I'll make of 'em what I be--I'll make 'em so damn bad that he
won't want 'em no more after I get done with 'em! I'll see what his
woman does when she finds 'em gone! Will ye help, Lem--Eli?"

"Yep, by God, you bet!" burst from both men at once.

"I'll take 'em to the squatter country, up to Mammy's," Lon proceeded,
"and, Eli, if ye'll take one of 'em on the train up to McKinneys Point,
I'll take t'other one up the west side of the lake. I'll pay all the
way, Eli; it won't be nothin' out o' yer pocket. We'll tell Mammy the
kids be mine--see? And ye can have all there be in this here room. Be it
a bargain?"

"Yep," assured Eli, and Lena's consent followed only an instant later.
After that there were no sounds save the snip, snip, snip of the pliers
and the occasional low grating from a jeweled trinket as the steel hook
gouged into the metal.

CHAPTER THREE

As Eli Cronk said, Scraggy Peterson left her lonely squatter home two
weeks before with no companion but her vicious black cat. The woman had
intervals of sanity, and during those periods her thoughts turned to a
dark-haired boy, growing up in a luxurious home. In these rare days she
donned her rude clothing, and with the cat perched close to her thin
face walked across the state to Tarrytown. Several times during the five
years after leaving Lem's scow she walked to Tarrytown, returning only
when she had seen the little boy, to take up her squatter life in her
father's hut. So secretive was she that no one had been taken into her
confidence; neither had she interfered with her child in any way. Never
once, hitherto, had her senses left her on those long country marches
toward the east; but often when she turned backward she would utter
forlorn cries, characteristic of her malady.

* * * * *

At eight o'clock, four hours before Lon Cronk opened his he