venture out again alone; for apprehension rose strong
within him. He knew that Scraggy had left the settlement to find their
boy. Had she come to Tarrytown for him? The two men crouched low, and
talked no more during some minutes. Finally, Lon, bidding Lem follow
him, lifted his big body, and they left the toolhouse. The squatter led
the way to the fence. They stood there for a time watching in silence.
Two shadows appeared upon a curtain of the house before them. A man was
lifting a woman in his arms, and the downward fall of her head gave
evidence of her unconsciousness. As the front door opened, the squatter
and the scowman retreated to their quarters. When Everett Brimbecomb
threw the body of Screech Owl into the cemetery, both were peering out.
They saw the man carry the figure off into the shadows, marking that he
returned alone. Neither knew that the other was Scraggy; but, with a
lust for mystery and evil, they slipped out with no word. Lon made off
to view the Shellington home once more, and Lem disappeared in the
direction from which Everett had come, easily following the tracks in
the snow. Coming within sight of the vault, Lem rounded it fearfully. On
the ground he saw the woman, and as he looked she rose to a sitting
position.

Screech Owl was just recovering her battered senses. She was still
dazed, and had not heard the scowman's footsteps, nor did she now hear
the mutterings in his throat. Faintly she called to Black Pussy; but,
receiving no response from the cat, she crawled deeper into the shadows
of the vault and tried to think. Her fitful whining brought Lem from his
hiding place.

"Be that you, Owl?" he whispered.

"Yep. Where be the black cat?"

"I dunno. Where ye been? And how'd ye get here?"

Scraggy leaned back against the marble vault in exhaustion.

"I dunno. Where be I now?"

Lem bent nearer her, shaking her arm roughly.

"Ye be in Tarrytown. Did ye come here for the brat?"

"What brat be ye talkin' 'bout, Lem?"

"Our'n, Screechy. Weren't ye here lookin' for him?"

Through the darkness Lem could not see the crazed expression that
flashed over Scraggy's face. She thrust her fingers in her hair and
shivered. The blow of Everett's fist had banished all memory of the boy
from her mind; but Lem lived there as vividly as in the olden days.

"We ain't got no boy, Lem," she said mournfully.

"Ye said we had, Screechy, and I know we have. Now, get up out of that
there snow, or ye'll fr