“Damn knee!” he groaned.  “It gets so twisted!  And sometimes I can’t walk.”

“Be ye goin’ to steal again tonight?” asked the girl, bending toward him.

“Yep, with Pappy Lon and Lem.  I hate it all, I do!” he cried impetuously.

“What makes ye go?  Take a lickin’, an’ I bet ye’ll stay to hum.  I would!”

With a spiteful shake of the black curls, she rubbed a bare toe over Snatchet’s yellow back.

“I wish I was a boy,” she went on.  “While I hate stealin’, I’d do it to have ye stay to hum, Flukey; then ye’d get well.  And—­”

She broke off abruptly and lowered her eyes to the shore, where Lem and Lon were in earnest conversation.  At the same moment Lon looked up and shouted a command: 

“Flea gal, Flea gal, come down here to me!”

Flea dropped the hand of her brother, moved directly to the water’s edge, and stood quietly until Lon chose to speak.

Lem Crabbe’s eyes devoured the slight young figure, his smile contorting the corners of his whiskered mouth.  One hand rested on the bow of the boat, while the long, rusty hook, sharp at the point and thick ironed at the top, protruded from the other coat-sleeve.

At last Lon Cronk began to speak deliberately, and the girl gave him her attention.

“Flea, ye be a woman now, ain’t ye?” he said “Ye be fifteen this comin’ Saturday.”

“Yep, Pappy Lon.”

“And yer brother be fifteen on the same day, you bein’ twins.”

“Yep, Pappy Lon.”

“Yer brother’s been taken into my trade,” proceeded the squatter, “and it ain’t the wust in the world—­that of takin’ what ye want from them that have plenty.  It’s time for ye to be doin’ somethin’, too.  Ye’ll go to Lem’s Scow, Flea.”

“To Lem’s scow?” exclaimed Flea.  “That ain’t no place for a kid, and nobody ain’t a wantin’ me, nuther!  I know there ain’t!”

“Ain’t there nobody a wantin’ her in yer scow, Lem Crabbe?” grinned Lon.

“Ye bet there be!” answered Lem, with an evil leer.

Flukey, who had approached the group, placed himself closer to his sister.  “Who—­who be wantin’ Flea, Lem Crabbe?” he demanded.

“It’s me, it’s me!” replied Lem, wheeling savagely about.

[Illustration:  “Let me—­stay A bit—­I’ll go up for twice my time.”]

For a short space of time nothing but the splash of the waves could be heard as they rolled white on the shore.  A change passed over Flea, and she clutched fiercely at her brother’s fingers.  It was as if she had said, “Help me, Flukey, if ye can!” But she did not speak the words; only stared at the hook-armed man with strained eyes.

“Flea ain’t no notion of goin’ away right yet, Pappy Lon,” burst out Flukey, catching his breath after the shock.  “She’s perferrin’ to stay with us; and I’ll work for her keep, if ye let her stay.”