rescue the babe? She went back for
more milk, wetting the corner of the cloth and wiping little Dan's
face. Then she gazed straight at Ben Letts, and said,

"How air yer mammy?"

It seemed the most natural thing that she should ask this of him.

"She air well," answered Ben, thrown off his guard. He took out his
pipe, and continued:

"When ye comes to the shanty, ye can't bring that brat."

"Nope; I ain't a-goin' to bring him," Tess replied, whispering a prayer
for aid.

"What be ye goin' to do with it?"

"I don't know yet." A muttered petition fell over the baby's face, but
she said aloud: "I think it air a-goin' to croak."

"I's a-thinkin' so, too," Ben said thoughtfully. "He hes the look of
death on his mug, Tessibel.... Air it yer brat?"

"He air mine now," she answered slowly, raising her head, "and I stays
here with him till he dies."

"Nope; ye be a-comin' to my shanty to-morry. Mammy air expectin' ye....
And ye'll be glad to come--afore I gets done with ye!"

Tess shivered. She remembered Myra's broken wrist, and heard again the
woful cry from the other squatter girl as she told of the harm done her.
If she could get out of the shanty, she could run from him, but that
would leave the child to his mercy. She glanced toward the door.
Whatever came to her, she must protect the babe. Lifting him from his
bed, she sat down at the oven, and extended the blue legs toward the
heat.

"He air so damn thin," she said in excuse, "that he allers yaps if he
air cold.... Have ye seen Myry's kid lately?"

"Yep; to-day. He air a-growin' a little more pert."

"Glad for Myry," was Tessibel's comment.

"Ye ain't heard nothin' from yer Daddy, have ye?" asked Ben, presently.

"Yep. I had a letter from him. He air a-comin' to the shanty as soon as
he air out."

"He ain't a-goin' to get out!"

"Yep, he air; sure he air."

"Air he a-knowin' of yer brat?" Ben was staring at the child.

Tess stared back at him. She had forgotten that she had intimated that
the baby was hers.

"I ain't tellin' Daddy nothin'.... His troubles be enough for _him_."

Her tone was low and bitter. She turned the babe with its back to the
heat to gain time. She had almost decided to run away--she could not
face Myra's fate.

"This durn stove ain't got no fire in it," she said, laying Baby Dan in
the box. "I's a-goin' for a stick of wood!"

As Tessibel walked past him, Ben did not stop her--squatters never saved
steps for their wome