“He can’t have them, Horace.  Oh! you can’t say yes to him!”

Horace’s mind turned back to Fledra, and he mentally blessed the opportunity he had to protect her.

“I don’t think, Mr. Cronk, that you will take your children,” he said, “even granted that they are yours.  I’m not sure of that yet.”

Lon’s brown face yellowed.  Had they discovered the secret that he had kept all the dark, revengeful years?

Horace’s next words banished that fear:  “I shall have to have you identified by one of them before I should even, consider your statement.”

Cronk smiled in relief; and Ann shuddered, as she thought of Flukey’s frail body in the man’s thick, twisting fingers.

“That be easy enough to do.  Jest call the gal—­or the boy.”

“The boy is too ill to get up,” said Ann huskily; “and I beg of you to go away and leave them with us.  You don’t care for them—­you know you don’t.”

“Who said as how I don’t care for my own brats?”

“The little girl told me the night she came here that you hated her, and also that you abused them.”

“I’ll fix her for that!” muttered Lon.

“I don’t believe you’ll touch her while she is with me,” said Horace hotly.  “I shall send for the girl, and, if you are their father, then—­”

“They can’t go!” cried Ann.

“I haven’t said that they could go, Ann.  I was just going to say to Mr. Cronk that if they wanted to go of course we couldn’t keep them.  Otherwise, there is a remedy for him.”  Horace leaned over toward the squatter and threw out his next words angrily, “There’s the law, Mr. Cronk!  Ann, please call Fledra.”

* * * * *

The girl responded with the weight of the world on her.  Had some arrangements been made for her and Floyd between Horace and Lon?  She knew that Ann was there, and that Mr. Shellington had been talking with the squatter long enough to decide what should be done.  She walked slowly to the door, her head spinning with anxiety and fear.  For one single moment she paused on the threshold, then stepped within.

Drop by drop, the color went from her cheeks, leaving them waxen white.  She threw the squatter an unbending opposing glance.

“Did you come for Fluke and me, Pappy Lon?” she stammered.

Her lips trembled perceptibly; but she went forward, and, taking Ann’s hand in hers, stood facing Cronk.

Lon looked her over from head to foot.  First, his gaze took in the pretty dark head; then it traveled slowly downward, until for an instant his fierce eyes rested on her small feet.

“Yep,” he replied, raising a swift look, “I comed for ye both—­you and Flukey, too.  Go and git ready!”

Fledra dared not appeal to Horace.  He stood so quietly in his place, making no motion to speak, that she felt positive that he wished her to go away.  She was too dazed to count up the sum of her troubles.  Her face fell into a shadow and grew immeasurably sad.  Lon was glowering at her, and she read his decision like an open page.  The dreadful opposition in his shaggy brown eyes spurred Fledra forward; but Ann’s arms stole about her waist, and the slender figure was drawn close.  A feeling of thanksgiving rushed over the girl.  How glad she was that she had kept the secret of Everett’s unfaithfulness!