t the night.

"If Pappy Lon sends me next Saturday to Lem," Flea ventured in an
undertone, "then ye can't help me much, can ye, Fluke?"

The muscles of the boy's face relaxed, and he drew his knee up to his
chest. "When my leg ain't lame I'm strong enough to lick Lem, if--if--"

"Nope; I ain't no notion for ye to lick him yet, Fluke. Do ye believe in
the sayin's of Screech Owl?"

"Ye mean--"

"Do ye believe what she says when the bats be a flyin' round in her
head, and when she sees the good land for you and myself, Flukey?"

"Did she say somethin' 'bout a good land for us, Flea?"

"Yep."

"Where's the good land?"

"Down behind the college hill, many a stretch from here--and, Flukey, I
ain't a goin' to Lena's, and ye ain't likin' to be a thief. Will ye come
and find the good land with me?"

"Girls can't run away like boys can. They ain't able to bear hurt."

Flea dropped her head with a blush of shame. She knew well that Flukey
could perform wonderful feats which she had been unable to do. Grandma'm
Cronk had told her that her dresses made the difference between her
ability and Flukey's. With this impediment removed, she could turn her
face toward the shining land predicted by Scraggy for Flukey and
herself; she could follow her brother over hills and into valleys, until
at last--

"I could wear a pair of yer pants and be a boy, too, and you could chop
off my hair," she exclaimed. "All I want ye to do is to grow to be a man
quick, and to lick Lem Crabbe if he comes after me. Will ye? Screechy
says he's goin' to follow me."

"I'll lick him anywhere," cried the boy, his tears rising; "and if ye
has to go to him, and he as much as lays a finger on ye, I'll kill him!"

His face was so rigidly drawn during his last threat that he hissed the
words out through his teeth.

"Then ye'd get yer neck stretched," argued Flea, "and I ain't a goin' to
him. We be goin' away to the good land down behind the college hill."

"When?" demanded Flukey.

"Tonight," replied Flea. "Ye go and get some duds for me,--a shirt and
the other pair of yer jeans. Crib Granny's shears to cut my hair off.
Then we'll start. See? And we ain't never comin' back. Pappy Lon hates
me, and he's licked ye all he's goin' to. Git along and crib the duds!"

She rose to her feet, nervously breaking away the little rivers of
grease that had hardened upon her hand and wrist.

"Ye've got to get into the hut in the dark," she said, "and then ye
st