* * * * *

In the meantime Lon watched eagerly for the coming of Lem.  When at last he espied the scow fastened in its accustomed place, he went down to carry the news to the owner.  After explaining the matter as far as it had gone, he ventured: 

“Lem, be ye carin’ for Flea yet?”

“Why?” demanded Lem suspiciously.

“’Cause we can make some money outen her, if ye gives up yer claim on her.”

“Ye mean to sell her?”

Lem’s words sounded hoarse as he wheezed them out.

“‘Tain’t sellin’ her,” explained Lon.  “A whollopin’ good-lookin’ feller wants her, and he says he’ll buy yer off and give me money fer her.  Will ye do it, Lem?”

“Nope, I won’t!  I want her myself.  I been waiting long ’nough fer her.”

“But wouldn’t ye ruther have a pocketful of money?  I would, I bet ye!”

“Lon, be ye goin’ to do me dirt?” asked Lem darkly.

Lon straightened his shoulders.

“Nope, I told him ye had to be buyed off, afore I could say nothin’.  But I thought ye liked money, Lem.”

“So I do; but I like Flea better.  I helped ye get ’em when they were babies, Lon, and ye said—­”

Cronk flung out his arms.

“I said as how ye wasn’t to mention aloud, even to me, that the kids wasn’t mine.  Ye has Flea, if ye say so, and I’ll tell the lawyer—­”

“Be it that good-lookin’ feller what ye give the fifty dollars to what wants Flea?” Cronk nodded.  “I thought ye wouldn’t let me marry her,” Lem cried, “and now ye be goin’—­”

Lon interrupted the scowman fiercely: 

“Nuther is he goin’ to marry her—­ye can bet on that!  No kid of Vandecar’s gets a boost up from me—­a boost down, more like!”

“I’ll kill the feller if he touches her,” growled Lem, “and ye can make up yer mind to that, Lon!”

Lon Cronk shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.

“Take her if ye want her, Lem.  I won’t put no straw in yer way.  But I never could see what ye wanted her fer.  She’s a big mouth to feed, let me tell ye!”

For some moments the two men sat in the darkening scow and smoked in silence.  Suddenly Lem looked up.

“We couldn’t get ahead of the nasty scamp, could we, Lon?  I mean, could we git the money, and then keep the gal?”

“I don’t want her,” growled Lon; “she couldn’t stay with me no more.”

“We oughter make him pay the money, though,” Lem insisted.

“Then, if ye has Flea, Lem,” said Lon, looking keenly at the scowman, “and ye git yer share of money, ye has to share up yer half with me.  See?”

“Yep,” muttered Lem.  “Will ye bring the feller down here some day, and we’ll talk it over?”

Lon acquiesced by a nod of his head, saying only, “Come on out, and let’s get a drink.”

“When’s he goin’ to git ’em—­Flea and Flukey, I mean?”

“I dunno.  The boy’s too sick to come to court.  He’s liable to die any minute.”