es
once more to Ann. "Look! He were hurt here by the hook when he were a
baby." She drew aside Everett's tattered shirt-front and displayed a
long white mark.

Ann staggered back. Everett had said to her:

"My mother will know me by the mark on my breast."

So this was the end of Everett's dream!

"He didn't love his mammy very much," Scraggy went on, "nor his pappy,
nuther; but it were 'cause he didn't know nuther one of us very well,
and Lem didn't love him nuther. And now they've fit till he's dead!
Lemmy's sick, too. Look at his face! He can't swaller when he's sick
like that." She left Everett and crawled to Lem.

"Can ye drink, Lemmy?" she asked sorrowfully.

The grizzled head shook a negative.

"Be ye dyin?"

This time Crabbe's head came forward in assent.

"Then ye dies with yer little boy--poor little feller! He were the
bestest boy in the hull world!" Here she placed an arm under Everett's
neck; throwing the other about Lem, she drew the two men together before
she resumed. "And Lemmy was the bestest man and pappy that anybody ever
see!"

* * * * *

Screech Owl's last words were nearly drowned by the shrill whistle of a
steamer. A minute later Ann and Fledra heard running footsteps coming
from the direction of the lake. There was no knock; but a quick jerk of
the latch-string flung wide the door--and Fledra was in Horace's arms.

"Thank God, my little girl is safe!" he murmured.

Then he glanced over her head, his horrified attention centered upon the
group on the floor.

Scraggy looked up at him, still holding Lem and Everett.

"I'm glad ye comed, Mister. Can't ye help 'em any?"

For many minutes they worked in silence over the father and son. Once
the brilliant eyes of Brimbecomb opened and flashed bewilderedly about
the room, until he caught sight of Ann. A smile, sweet and winning,
curved his lips. Then he lapsed into unconsciousness again.

"Oh, I want him to speak to me, Horace," moaned Ann, "only a little
word!"

"Wait, Dear," said Horace. "We're doing all we can.... I believe that
man over there is dead."

He made a motion as if to lean over the scowman; but Scraggy pushed him
back.

"No, my Lemmy ain't dead," she wailed, "course he ain't dead!" She
placed her lips close to the dying man's ear, and called, "Lemmy, Lemmy,
this be Scraggy!"

The hooked arm moved a trifle, and then was still. The fingers of the
left hand groped weakly about, and