She cast ravenous eyes on the small bundles Lem was placing on the table.

“I’ll give ye a piece of bread an’ ’lasses,” was the grudging answer.  “And mind ye, I wouldn’t do that but I want to hear what ye say ’bout Flea.”

Avidly the woman ate the thick slice of bread and treacle, offering a bit now and then to the cat.  When she had devoured it Lem spoke: 

“Now wash it down with this here water and tell me yer tale—­and if ye lie to me I’ll kill ye!”

“I ain’t a goin’ to lie to ye—­I’ll tell ye the truth, I will!”

They both drank, the man from the bottle, the woman from a tin cup.  Presently she asked: 

“Be ye goin’ to marry Flea Cronk?”

“Who’s been carryin’ tales to ye?” shouted Lem, bounding from his chair.  “Ye better be a mindin’ yer own affairs, or ye’ll be havin’ nothin’ but bats in yer head till ye die.  Scoot for hum!  Ye hear?”

“Yep; but I ain’t goin’ jest yet.  Ye want to hear ’bout Flea, don’t ye?”

“Yep.”

“Then set down an’ I’ll tell ye.”

Lem, growling impatience, seated himself.

“Flea Cronk ain’t for you, Lem!”

“Who said as how she ain’t?” demanded Lem, starting up.  The cat spat viciously, startled by the sudden movement.  “I wish ye’d left that damn cat to hum!  I hain’t no notion to be bit by no cat.”

“Kitty won’t bite ye if ye let me alone—­will ye, Kitty?  I ain’t never afeard of nothin’ when I got him with me—­be I, Kitty, pretty pussy?”

“Stop a cooin’, ye bughouse woman,” snarled Crabbe, “and tell me what ye got to!”

“I said Flea wasn’t for you.”

“Ye lie!”

He made a desperate move toward her; but the cat rose threateningly, its hair standing on end in a mound upon the humped back.  Lem fell away with an oath, and Scraggy, smiling wanly, petted the vicious brute.

“I said ye was to keep away, Lem.  Wait till I get done.  Flea’s got to be some ’un else’s, not yers.”

“Who’s?” Lem’s voice rose; but he did not advance toward her.

“I dunno; but I seed him.  He rides a black horse, and has a fine, big body and wears yeller boots.  This afternoon when the day was darkenin’ I saw him from the railroad bed, and I saw Flea’s spirit a travelin’ with him.  I know that ye cared for her this long time back; but ye can’t have her.”

“Who be the feller?” demanded Lem, frowning.

“I said I didn’t know, and I don’t.”

“Were Flea with him?”

“Nope; not in her body, but jest in her spirit.”

“Rats!  Scoot along with ye, and take yer cat and get out!”

Scraggy had not noticed the blood oozing from Lem’s, cheek until she had received her dismissal.  She passed a long, red, bare arm about the animal and asked: 

“Who bit yer cheek, Lem?”

“Who says it were bit?”

“I say it.  I see white teeth a goin’ in it.  And I see red lips ag’in’ it with deadly hate.”