to much," she ventured, "but he air a pappy--that
air somethin', ain't it?"

"Yep," mused Tessibel. "A daddy air more than a mammy."

So had Tessibel and Myra been brought up to believe. The squatter women
fawned at the feet of their brutal husbands, as a beaten dog cringes to
its master. That Ben Letts had broken Myra's arm on the ragged rocks,
and yet the girl wanted to aid him, showed Tess the superiority of the
male sex, and Myra loved the squint-eyed fisherman, she evidenced it in
every action.

The lips of the younger squatter were sealed about the trail which she
herself had laid in the midnight tragedy. But through the tender young
heart flashed the hope that the experience with the dog would cause Ben
Letts to turn his face toward the wretched, shrunken creature, who had
suffered so much through him. She contemplated Myra an instant.

"Do ye want me to see him?" she asked, rising.

"Yep," replied Myra, the dull eyes filled with a momentary sparkle. "He
hes somethin' to say to ye, and I did say as how ye would come."

"Air he alone?" questioned Tess.

"Nope, his mammy air with him--we'll go now--eh?"

Slipping on Daddy's boots was Tessibel's assent, and they started
through the underbrush in silence.

"The brat ain't goin' to die, air he?" asked Tess presently.

It had been several days since she had seen Myra's little son. The
troubles of Daddy Skinner had taken up every moment of her time.

"Mebbe," grunted Myra unemotionally; "he howls like a sick pup from
mornin' till night."

"I air a goin' home with ye, Myry," assured Tessibel; "he won't yap when
I sings to him."

The lake had risen over the strip of beach, its waters freezing against
the rocks. This forced the girls to take the path through the wood to
the hill beyond. Until they came in sight of Ben Letts' cabin, they said
no more.

At their knock Ben's mother softly opened the door. Her shaggy gray hair
had not been combed and her fierce old eyes glowed with agony unsoftened
by tears.

"Ben air too sick to get up," she explained awkwardly, presenting each
girl a chair, "I said as how ye couldn't come, Tessibel, but Ben said
Myry were to bring ye."

From the back room came the sound of belabored breathing and a hoarse
voice called for Tessibel. The squatter girl rose to her feet, her color
changing from red to white. The thought of the fisherman with his
dog-bitten face was repulsive to her.

"Ye be goin' in with me to see him, ain