“Slack up a little, Middy!  I want to come aboard the tug.”

The words floated back to Fledra, and she half-rose, but again sank to the deck.  Lon was leaving her alone with Lem!  The tug stopped, and the momentum of the barge sent it close to the little steamer.  When the gap between the boats was not too wide, Lon sprang to the stern of the tug, and again Middy’s small craft pulsated with life, and again the rope stretched taut between the two vessels.

As the gloom of the night deepened, Fledra could no more discern the outline of the steamer ahead, only its stern light disclosing its position.  For some moments she scarcely dared breathe.  Suddenly a light burst over the crest of the hills opposite, and the edge of the moon’s disk rose higher and higher, until the glowing ball threw its soft, pale light over Cayuga and the surrounding country.  Once more the tug took form, and the deck of the scow was revealed to the girl in all its murkiness.  Shaking with anxiety, she allowed her eyes to rove about until they riveted themselves upon two glittering spots peering at her over the top step from the shadow of the stairway.  A low growl from Snatchet did not disturb the fascination the evil eyes held for her.  It seemed as if goblin hands reached out to touch her; as if supernatural objects and evil human things menaced her from all sides.  The crouching figure of the scowman became more distinct as he sneaked over the top step and edged toward her.  A sudden morbid desire came over the girl to throw herself into the water.  She rose unsteadily to her feet, with Snatchet still clutched in her arms.  She threw one appealing glance at the tug—­then, before she could cry out or move, Lem was at her side.

“Don’t ye so much as open yer gab,” he muttered, “or I’ll hit ye with this!”

The steel hook was held up dangerously near her face, and the threat of it rendered her dumb.

“Yer pappy be a playin’ me dirt, and I won’t let him.  Ye’re goin’ to be my woman, if I has to kill ye!  See?”

No sign of help came to the girl from the tug, nor dared she force a cry from her lips.

“Yer pappy says as how I can’t marry ye,” went on Lem, in the same whisper, “and I don’t give a damn about that—–­ only, ye don’t leave this scow to go to no hut!  Ye stay here with me!”

Fledra had wedged herself more tightly into the corner, hugging the snarling Snatchet closer.  As she backed, the scowman came nearer, his hot breath flooding her face.

“Put down that there dorg!” he hissed.  Snatchet did not cease growling, and the baring of his teeth sent Lem back a step or two.  “If he bites me, Flea, I’ll knock his brains clean plumb out of him!”

With this threat, the scowman came to her again, stretching out his left hand to touch her.  Snatchet sent out a bark that was half-yelp and half-growl, and before the man could withdraw his fingers the dog had buried his teeth deep in them.  With a wrathful cry, the scowman jumped back, then lunged forward, wrenched the dog from Fledra’s arms, and pitched him over the edge of the barge into the lake.  The girl heard the dog give a frightened howl, and saw the splash of water in the moonlight as he fell.