* * * * *
The next morning the barge approached the squatter settlement, and Fledra was once more on deck. She wondered what Floyd had said when he received her letter, and if he believed that she had gone of her own free will. What had Ann said--and Horace? The thought of her lover caused bitter tears to rain between her fingers. But she stifled her sobs, and a tiny, happy flutter brightened her heart when she thought of how she had saved them all. Below she heard a conversation between Lem and Lon, and listened.
She first heard the voice of the squatter: "It's almost over, Lem, and then we'll go back to stealin' when ye get Flea. She can be a lot of use to us."
"But what ye goin' to say to that feller if he comes up tomorry?"
"He can go to hell!" growled Cronk.
"And ye won't give the gal to him?"
"Nope."
In her fancy Fledra could see Lon draw the pipe from his lips to mutter the words to Lem.
"If ye take his money, Lon," gurgled Lem, "ye might have to fight with him if he don't get Flea."
The listening girl crept to the staircase and strained her ears.
"I kin fight," replied Lon laconically.
When, next day, the tug came to a standstill in front of the rocks near the squatter's hut, Fledra went forward and touched Lon's arm. Her eyes rested a moment upon him, before she could gather voice to say: "Will you let me stay with you, Pappy Lon, for a few days?"
"I'll let ye stay till I tell ye to go," growled Lon, "and I don't want no sniveling, nuther."
"When are you going to tell me to go?"
"When I like. Middy's gittin' the skiff ready to take ye out. Scoot there, and light a fire in the hut! Here be the key to the padlock."
Fledra's heart rose a little with hope. He had not said that she had to go with Lem that day. After she had been rowed to the shore, she went slowly to the shanty, with a prayer upon her lips. She had no thought that Horace would try to save her, or that he would be able to keep her from Lem and Lon. She prepared the breakfasts for Cronk and Crabbe and for Middy with his two helpers. During the meal four pairs of eyes looked at the slim, lithe form as it darted to and fro, doing the many tasks in the littered hut. Lon Cronk was the only one not to lift his head as she passed and repassed. He sat and thought moodily by the fire. At last he did lift his head, and Fledra's solemn gray eyes, fixed gravely upon him, made the squatter ill at ease.