"Then what right has ye got to tell me what to do? Shut up or get
out--ye see?"

He closed his jaw with a vicious snap, resting his half-dazed head on
his mutilated arm. Louder came the baby's cries from the back room.
Thinking Lem had ended his tirade, Scraggy made a motion to rise.

"Set still!" growled Crabbe.

"Can't I get the brat, Lemmy?" she pleaded. "He's likely to fall offen
the bed."

"Let him fall. What do I care? I want to tell ye somethin'. I didn't
bring ye here to this boat to boss me, ye see? Ye keep yer mouth shet
'bout things what ye don't like. Ye're in my way, anyhow."

"Ye mean, Lemmy, as how I has to leave ye?"

Crabbe regarded the appealing face soddenly before answering. "Yep,
that's what I mean. I'm tired of a woman allers a snoopin' around, and a
hundred times more tired of the brat."

"But he's yer own," cried the woman, "and ye did say as how ye'd marry
me for his sake! Didn't ye say it, Lem? He ain't nothin' but a baby, an'
he don't cry much. Will ye let me an' him stay, Deary?"

"Ye can stay tonight; but tomorry ye go, and I don't give a hell where,
so long as ye leave this here scow, an' I'm a tellin' ye this--" He
halted with an exasperated gesture. "Go an' get that kid an' shet his
everlastin' clack!"

Scraggy bounded into the inner room, and, once out of sight of the
watchful eyes of Lem, snatched up the infant and pressed her lips
passionately to the rosy skin.

"Yer mammy'll allers love ye, little 'un, allers, allers, no matter what
yer pappy does!"

She whispered this under her breath; then, dragging the red shawl about
her shoulders, appeared in the living-room with the child hidden from
view.

"An' I'll tell ye somethin' else, too," burst in Lem, pulling out a
corncob pipe: "that it ain't none of yer business if I steal or if I
don't. I was born a thief, as I told ye many a time, and last night ye
made Lon Cronk and Eli mad as hell by chippin' in."

"They be bad men," broke in the woman, "and ye know--"

"I know ye're a damn blat-heels, and I know more'n that: that yer own
pappy ain't no angel, and ye needn't be a sayin' my friends ain't no
right here--ye see? They be--"

"They be thieves and liars, too," interrupted Scraggy, allowing the
sleeping babe to sink to her knees, "and the prison's allers a yawnin'
for 'em!"

"Wall, I ain't a runnin' this boat for fun," drawled Lem, "nor for to
draw lumber for any ole guy in Albany. Ye know that I draw it jest to