Scraggy, with a sob, lifted the arm
and put it about her. Had the others in the room been mindful of the
action, they would have seen the man's muscles tighten about the woman's
thin neck. Then presently his arm loosened and he was dead.

Everett's eyes were open, and he was trying to speak.

"Is--Ann--here?" he whispered faintly.

"Yes, Dear, I am here, right close beside you. Can't you feel my hands?"

His head turned feebly, and his fingers sought hers.

"I have been--wretchedly--wicked!"

His voice was so low that Horace did not catch the words; but Scraggy
heard, and crawled from Lem to Miss Shellington's side.

"Missus, will ye tell my little boy-brat that his mammy be here? Will ye
say as how I loved him--him and Lemmy, allers?"

Her haggard face was close to Ann's, and the latter took in every word
of the low-spoken petition. Miss Shellington bent over the dying man.

"Everett," she said brokenly, "your own mother is here, and she wants
you to speak to her."

Brimbecomb partly rose, and, in scanning those in the hut, his eyes fell
upon Screech Owl. The tense agony seemed for an instant to leave his
face, and it fell into more boyish lines.

"Little 'un--pretty little 'un," whispered Scraggy "yer mammy loves ye,
and Lemmy loved ye, too, if he did hit ye!"

Screech Owl hung over him many minutes in a breathless silence; but when
Vandecar came in Everett, too, was dead. Then, at last, Scraggy moved
toward the door, and, with the same wild cry that had haunted the
settlement for so many years, sprang out into the night.

* * * * *

From her hiding place in the gulch, Scraggy saw Vandecar and the rest
mount the hill. When they had disappeared, she slunk down the lane and
made straight for Lon's hut. With dread in her eyes, she stood for
sometime before the dark shanty, and then swayed forward to the window.

When she reached it, superstition forced her back; but love proved
stronger than fear, and she looked into the room. So dark was it within
that she could see only the white mound on the floor--the mound made by
the dead father and son. They were hers--all that was left of the men
she had loved always! Scraggy tried the door; but found it locked. Then
she attempted to move the window; but it, too, had been fastened. With a
stone she hammered out the glass, making an opening through which she
dragged her body. As she stood there in silent gloom, the very air
seemed to