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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!"
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As Tessibel walked past him, Ben did not stop her--squatters never saved steps for their women. The girl flung open the door, but hesitated on the threshold. During the instant of her indecision, a silent panorama of night passed before her. Heavy rain clouds dipped almost to the dark water, obscuring the city and the University hill beyond. A great
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steamer attached to a number of canal boats lay as a thin black line in the center of the lake. An owl left the branches of the hut tree and circled into the safety of the shore willows, and a stealthy barn cat, with thread-like legs, crept from the water's edge toward the lane with a trailing dead fish in
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his jaws. He turned glistening green eyes upon Tess, and leapt away with his treasure. Oh! to be out once more in the darkness with the child--out among God's creatures, her creatures, there she would be safe--safe from Myra's terror. Glancing back at little Dan, she saw his large gray eyes fixed gravely upon the candlelight. To leave him there
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was like sending him into the jaws of death. To take him was impossible. She turned back, closed the door with a gasp, and faced Ben Letts. He was at her side in a moment. "I air got ye now," sounded in her ear like the roar of the sea. She felt the man crush her in his arms, felt
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the thick lips upon her face. "Ye think ye be such a smart kid that ye needn't never mind what a man says to ye. I knows that brat don't belong to yerself. I ain't seed ye all summer for nothin'. Tell me, whose air he?" Tess wrenched herself free, and sent forth scream after scream. A horny hand left
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a red mark across the fair face. It was the right of the fisherman to beat the woman he loved.... Tessibel Skinner was feeling for the first time the aggressiveness of the male. "Ben, Ben, I tells ye the truth if ye wait a minute." Ben relaxed his hold a little, and the girl continued: "The brat ain't mine--it air
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a woman's on the hill. She didn't like it, and gave it to me, with a little money, till Daddy comes back." "Whose brat air it?" "A woman's I says, a-livin' on the hill." The words struggled through the fishy hand. "Ye'll take it back to her to-night, ye does; then ye comes with me to the shanty. Yer Daddy
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ain't a-comin' here no more." Suddenly Tess heard footsteps crushing the pebbles near the hut. She could be saved, if she-- She wrenched her face upward, and screamed, "Rescue ther perishin'!" The words were sent out in such a strain of agony that Ben Letts thrust his fingers to her throat. With an oath he closed them together. "I loves
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ye, ye hussy; that air why I chokes ye!" The room whirled around before Tessibel's gaze. She tried to draw her breath beneath the tightening grasp. The door burst open, and Frederick Graves received a desperate look of entreaty from the squatter-girl. The babe smacked loudly. The September wind whirled its rain and dead willow leaves over the hut floor.
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A rasping sound, like the filing of a saw, came from the tin roof. Frederick Graves took in the scene with one sharp glance. He saw the fisherman, in ugly doggedness, towering over the small figure of the squatter-girl. Then he flung himself upon Ben Letts. He tore Ben's fingers from Tessibel's neck, leaving the skin reddened and scratched by
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the nails. Tess sank to the floor. The student's fist came down with a stunning blow upon the partly upturned face of the squatter Ben, and the fellow tumbled over. "Stand up," said Frederick to Tessibel, lifting her gently to her feet. Her hand fluttered to her eyes, then to her throat. Still dizzy from the choking, she sank into
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the rocking-chair. "What were you two fighting over?" demanded Frederick impetuously. Tess gathered her senses at the sound of his voice. "He were a-tryin' to make me come to his shanty with him--to be his'n--and I ain't a-goin'!" She whimpered a little, but choked back the tears, and raged: "A squatter-girl can't live a minute without some damn bloke wants
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to take her from her Daddy's shanty.... I ain't a-goin', I says!" How brave she felt, with the student near! for there was an expression upon his face that gave her courage. He looked so strong, so brave--and he had come when she had prayed. Something took from her the terror of the night when she had proclaimed her motherhood
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to him. Perhaps Teola had told him the truth. When he had turned from her in the agony of the confession, he had scorned her with his proud, dark eyes. Now he threw her the same protective glance that she had received before the tragedy. The silence in the room became oppressive. "I ain't a-goin'," she said again, to break
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it. Ben was upon the floor. He feared to rise, for Frederick stood threateningly over him. "She goes to my shanty," insisted Ben, screwing his face to peep through the swollen lids. "She and the brat goes to my hut.... I air its pappy!" Frederick staggered back against the door with a groan, Tess catching her breath in a sob.
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She could not exonerate herself because of Teola; she knew from Frederick's emotion at Ben's assertion that his sister had not told him. But he should not believe the lie that Letts had uttered. She saw the fine face of the student fall into his hands, and shudder after shudder run over the giant frame. Ben Letts leered at him
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with his twisted face, as a demon might at a soul in torment. The boy suffered for her--that was enough. The front portion of her skirt had been almost torn away in her struggle, and unconsciously she lifted it, and pinned a thorn more closely in its place. But for an instant she held back the words ready upon her
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tongue, and with one long step she reached Frederick, placing her hand upon his arm. "Don't touch me, please," he shuddered. "It's awful--awful! And I--I loved you so!" "Haw!" chuckled Ben, settling back against the child's box. "I says as how the gal comes to my shanty. She brings the brat to its pa." Frederick moodily considered the ugly face.
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The sneer that accompanied the declaration roused his rage; the brute had sealed the doom of Tessibel Skinner. Again the student was oblivious of his love for the profession he had chosen; forgot that the one book he had studied more than any other taught him that the God he worshiped would avenge all wrong. In one step he was
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upon the fisherman. He lifted Orn Skinner's stool, and brought it down with a crash upon Ben's head. Tess uttered a sharp, frightened cry, speeding to interrupt another blow. "Get out of the way," cried the student, pushing her from him. "I am going to kill him!" With no ungentle touch she grasped Frederick's arm, holding the stool in the
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air. "Ye air to wait," she said, in low, swift tones, her gaze dominating his flashing eyes. "Ye'll kill him if ye hit him again.... Wait till I says what I's a-goin' to ... I loves my Daddy, that ye knows--better'n anything in the hull world--better'n God--better'n--better'n--" "Better than the child?" demanded Frederick, placing his foot upon Ben. A grunt
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issued from the girl's lips. "Yep, a hundred times better than the brat! And I says this: that I hopes my daddy's neck'll be twisted by the rope, I hopes that I never sees him again"--her voice was raised high above the whistling wind and dashing rain--"I hopes," she finished, "that his soul'll shrivel in hell--" "Stop! stop!" muttered Frederick.
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"Why are you saying such things?" "I hopes it all," insisted Tess, bending her head nearer, "and I swears that I hopes it if Ben Letts ain't a liar!" Frederick's foot slipped from the round, fat body. He took a long breath, brushing a damp lock from his brow. "I believe you," he surrendered slowly. "Oh, God! Tessibel, I believe
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you--and I love you, in spite of that!" His glance swept over Ben's prostrate body to the death-like child. Letts sat up with an oath, rubbing the inflicted bruises. Frederick helped him to his feet. "You go home," he said, piercing the fisherman with his burning eyes. "And let me warn you against fastening any of your lies upon this
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girl, for whatever she is, or whatever she has done, I know that you lied to-night.... Now go!" Frederick pointed toward the door. Letts, muttering threats and curses against the student and the squatter-girl, stumbled out into the storm. Ben's head was splitting with pain. A gash on his nose bled until his torn sleeve was thickened with blood. He
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staggered out of the rays of the candle, and took the path to the hill. The sound of footsteps caused him to sink down beside the way and wait. Was the student--? No, the person was coming from the other direction. In the dim light he saw a man dripping with water totter toward him. Ben peered out upon the
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wobbling legs, and in another instant had fallen back, shivering with fright and superstitious fear. Ezra Longman, his face haggard and ghastly white, stood directly in front of him. * * * * * Frederick closed the door upon Ben, and Tess turned upon him sharply. "It were a lie he told ye," said she, "and he weren't worth killin'."
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"I don't want to speak of him," stammered Frederick, "I came to talk to you. It nearly killed me to-night, when my father whipped you, and I want to save you from such things in the future.... My father gives me an allowance--I want to buy the milk for the little child. Will you let me, Tess?" His face had
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grown scarlet, his eyes fell before hers. The girl seemed glued to the spot. "It will save you from stealing," resumed the boy. "I can't bear to have you steal." The tragic tone stung Tessibel. Teola had promised to tell him. She herself would; it was only right that he should know. She took two impetuous steps forward, opened her
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lips--but again remembered her oath. "I air a-thankin' ye for the milk," was all she said. With an embarrassed air, Frederick tendered her a silver dollar. Tessibel stepped back, hesitant. "It will make me happier, if you will take it," he urged. Tess extended her fingers, blushing crimson, but took the coin from his hand. A sob choked the utterance
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of further gratitude. "Professor Young says," broke in Frederick, after a painful silence, "that he is going to bring your father back here before the winter.... But, Tess, I don't want you to live in this shanty. I want you to be a better girl, Tess. Will you? Will you?" His eyes rested upon the child. The darkness of the
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night, the ghostly sound of the wind, the swish of the thousands of wet leaves over the roof, roused the romance in the girl until she felt an impulse to tell him the whole painful story; to feel his kisses warm upon her face, to have his arms about her, to kneel with him again, and hear his earnest voice
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interceding for Daddy Skinner.... But her oath! It was Teola's secret, not hers. "Ye couldn't go on a-trustin' me the same as before ye knowed of him?" Her head inclined toward the infant in a large-eyed question. Frederick shook his head. "No," he ejaculated; "no! Nevertheless, I would save you from--worse. The more I think of it, the more I
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believe that you were honest in your desire to know God and the truth. He will forgive you your sin, Tessibel, if you ask Him." "If God air forgivin'--then couldn't ye forgive, too?" It took a desperate effort to utter the words. Nothing but her love for him could have forced them from her. "That's different," reddened the boy. "I
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wanted--I wanted to marry you some day." To marry her! She drew a great, heaving breath, more strongly tempted to tell him than before. But, as she struggled with her desire, her face grew paler, and the drooping mouth gathered sad lines. She did not reply, and the student continued, "You have one of the most beautiful voices I have
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ever heard, Tess. It is a God-given gift, and He will hold you responsible for it if you neglect it." "I air only a squatter," she moaned forlornly, shaking the red curls. "Daddy air a squatter, too, and if he air a-comin' home, then I stays with him. If he says as how we stay in the shanty, then we
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stays, even if it air yer Daddy's. I asks Daddy Skinner to give it back, but a brat can't boss her Pappy, can she?... Ye sees, don't ye?" "Yes, Tess, I see," slowly replied Frederick. "But it's not because of my father I want you to go. You have the squatter's rights, and may remain if you wish.... It is
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for your own sake. You are sixteen ... But, of course, the--child--has changed your life." "It ain't changed my lovin' you!" This was the first open confession of her love. She made it emphatically, almost sullenly. Frederick whitened, and turned his face away. In the terror of the thought that she would lose him again, Tess sank upon her knees
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beside him. This time he did not thrust her aside. The strong young hands pressed upon his shoulders, and the sensitive chin trembled. Tess turned her face up to his. "Don't!" he breathed hard. "Don't, Tess!" But the girl heeded him not. Of a sudden, Frederick raised his eyes and looked directly into hers. The jealousy that had risen tiger-like
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in his breast, forcing him from her, and demanding that he should never look upon her face again, yielded precedence to a nobler and stronger thought. He would help the girl with her living secret--help her, and make her better. Long and fixedly he studied the beautiful face, until he had read to the finish the tale of passion and
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longing. The auburn head bent nearer and nearer, the panting lips imparting the sweet breath of youth. Then they both forgot the whistling wind and the falling rain ... forgot even the wriggling, fire-branded babe in its bed. Frederick's lips closed down upon the girl's, and the dark hair of the student mingled with the red curls of the squatter.
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"I shall never let you go again," murmured Frederick, his lips roving in sweet freedom over the flushed cheeks. "And I ain't a-goin' ter let yer go, nuther," whispered Tess. "I works, fishes and berries the years through--but I air yer squatter." The child, as if in pain, cried sharply. The student's arms slipped limply from Tessibel, and he stood
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up. "I had forgotten it for a moment, Tess. The infant has changed your life and mine.... I have loved you dearly--I love you still. But the child is between us, and always will be ... I must remember it.... Ah! I have forgotten one thing I came for. Here!" He was holding a small Bible out to her. "In
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my temper I burned yours. I'm sorry. I was bringing you this when I heard you cry." Tess took the n her hand mechanically, and the hope rekindled in her heart died. Frederick bent over her for one short moment, looking into her eyes. "Forgive me if you can, Tess--and--and be a good girl!" He opened the door, and was
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gone before she could stop him. With chattering teeth, she flung herself upon the stool, resting her head in her arms on the table, heeding not the second whining command from the infant. Suddenly, with flashing eyes, she bounded up. She would tell him. Teola had promised that he should know. Why not be happy, and make him happy? She
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would call him back, and-- The door opened under her impulsive hand. She faced the storm--and the tall, gaunt, emaciated form of Ezra Longman. Ezra looked so like a wandering night-shade, so tall, wet and thin, that Tess uttered a shriek. The lad pushed his way into the cabin, and dropped on the floor. All thought of the student was
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driven from Tessibel's mind by her superstition at the sight of the boy. "Ezy, Ezy, air it yerself, or air it yer shade what air here? It air yer own self, ain't it, Ezy?" "Yep." "Where air yer been?" "I dunno. I air sick unto death, I air." "Have ye seen yer mammy?" "Nope." "Nor Satisfied?" "Nope." "Then ye be
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a-goin' there now, ain't ye?" "Yep." "Was ye to Albany?" "Nope. I were sick in a house, and the big man from the hill were a-takin' care of me. I weren't a-goin' to stay no longer, so I runned away. I air a-goin' home to Mammy." "Yep, that air right," rejoined Tess with conviction, "for yer mammy air a-grievin' every
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day for ye, and Satisfied air a-gettin' older and older-lookin'. They thought as how ye might be in Albany." Another loud cry caused Ezy to turn his head toward the infant. "Ye air the same as Myry," he said slowly; but before he could say another word, the girl interposed hastily: "It ain't my brat.... It belongs to a woman
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on the hill. I gets paid for it." To every other man save to the one she loved was Tess able to deny the motherhood that had been thrust upon her. To the student she stood condemned of a sin he could not forgive. But to Ezra, Ben, and Professor Young she had told the truth. The weakness of the
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squatter as he sat on the floor, panting for breath, aroused Tessibel's sympathy, and she proffered him a cup of little Dan's milk. "Drink it," she commanded, "and then scoot to yer mammy. And--and ye needn't say as how I air a-carin' for another woman's brat, will ye, Ezy?" "Nope; I ain't a-sayin' nothin' ... I goes home to my
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mammy." If Tess had never seen the hue of death upon a human face, she saw it now. The boy rose totteringly, and Tessibel, with a tender expression in her eyes, opened the door. "Ezy, I's sorry for ye! I's sorry that I slicked the dirty dishrag in yer face. Ye forgives me, don't ye, Ezy?" "Yep." And Ezra stumbled
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away. Tess watched him stagger along the shore through the rain, the shadows of the weeping-willow trees at last swallowing him up. She turned back into the hut, barred the door, and fed the child with sweetened milk, forcing particles of bread into the yawning throat. Teola had sent the student from her, never to return, yet she fed the
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child tenderly, tucking it, with its sugar rag, in the warm blanket. She snuffed the end from the candle, that it might burn brighter, took the little Bible, and sat down to read. "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" she haltingly spelled. Her eyes sought the small outline of Dan Jordan's babe in the bed. She
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hardly understood Paul's figurative words, but vaguely imagined that the apostle was afflicted with something like the wizened child which had been thrust upon herself. Loud, impatient noises issued from the blanket. Tess rose, settled the baby more comfortably, and sat down again. Her eyes sought another verse. "If ye have the faith of a grain of mustard-seed--" The passage
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brought a vivid blush to her face. She rose silently, and knelt by the window. "Take this here body of my death," she prayed, "and give the poor brat to the Christ! Make its ma tell the student, and give Tessibel faith like a mustard-seed." Thus ended her prayer. * * * * * Ezra Longman, sick unto death, as
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he had said, floundered his way along the wet path. The long walk through the storm from Ithaca had so weakened him that he could hardly stand upright. He wanted to see his mother once more, to be with Satisfied, and to warn Myra of the coming evil. A conversation he had heard between the nurse and Professor Young had
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decided him to go home if he could, for Ezra knew that his sister loved the ugly fisherman who had tried to put him to death in the Hoghole. As he neared his cabin home, he saw the candle streaming its flickering ray upon the path that led to the rocks. He saw his mother snuff the flame and Satisfied
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take Myra's child up from the floor, but he did not see his sister. As if in answer to this thought as to her whereabouts, Myra appeared directly in front of him, carrying a pail of water from the spring. She did not notice him until he pronounced her name in an undertone. The pail dropped from her hand, splashing
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its contents over her garments, and she uttered a little frightened cry. He whispered her name again and Myra timidly put out her hand. "Air it yerself, Ezy?" she implored. "Yep, I air here. I comed to see Mammy and Satisfied, and to tell ye that it air time for ye to be savin' Ben Letts if ye loves him.
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Ben throwed me in the Hoghole, he did, but I know that ye loved him, and I comed." The boy staggered with weakness, and his sister threw an arm around him. "Ye air to come to Mammy," she urged. "Mammy loves ye, Ezy dear." "Wait," whispered the boy. "Ben Letts air to be arrested." "What?" The cry was sharp--the words
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hurt. "Ben Letts air to be tooked to jail. It were him what killed the gamekeeper. It weren't Orn Skinner." "Who were a-sayin' it were Ben?" demanded Myra, her mouth hard and lined. "I says it," replied Ezy. "I seed him when he done it, and I comed to tell ye, and to see Mammy and Satisfied." "Then come in,
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and go to bed, for ye be sick." A change gradually came over Myra: cunning grew in the faded eyes and determination straightened the thin shoulders, as she led her brother into the hut. "Mammy," she called softly, opening the door, "here air Ezy!" "Fetch him in," cried Satisfied. Mrs. Longman sank weakly into a chair. The sight of her
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son, her only son, white and emaciated, and the appearance of the livid scar on his brow drew a painful cry from her lips. "He air sick," continued Myra, "put him to bed." "Where air ye been all this time, Ezy?" asked Longman, assisting him into the small back room. But Ezra was too ill to tell the story, and
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the mother hushed him to sleep just as she had in those childhood days when he had been good, and always at home. Meantime, Myra, pale and thoughtful, moved about the shanty. Her mind was upon one subject--she must save Ben Letts from the dreaded rope. She did not question the verity of her brother's statement, for she realized that
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Ben was not only capable of killing the inspector, but also of placing the guilt upon an innocent man. It did not, however, change her squatter love. The more she thought of Ben's danger, the more she loved and wanted to save him, the more determined she grew to take him away to some place where the officers could not
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find him. "Goin' to bed, Myry?" asked Longman, taking the candle and climbing the ladder to the loft. "Yep, but I air a-goin' to rock the brat a little while. Ye and Mammy go to bed. I locks the door." She settled herself in the wooden rocking-chair, trundling the child to and fro, and murmuring a doleful tune. Her son
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was now almost two years old, and beginning to toddle about upon a pair of crooked, thin legs. As often as Ben had visited the hut he had never deigned to look at the child, but Myra had a dull hope that, if she saved the fisherman, he would show some affection for the little boy. An hour later, the
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regular breathing of her father and mother told Myra that they both slept. Ezra, too, was sleeping, for she had bent over him but a little time before. The clock on the mantel pointed to midnight. The girl rose, and fed the baby, dropping some paregoric into his milk to keep him asleep, and then drew a large shawl about
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the little one, rolling him gently in the warm folds. Finally, she took a piece of paper and a pencil from the shelf. "Mammy," she wrote, "I's a-goin' to save Ben Letts. Ezy tells ye about it, as how Ben Letts killed the gamekeeper it werent Orn Skinner. I takes the brat cause it air Bens I luves yer and
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Satisfied." She pinned the note to the handle of the copper kettle upon the stove, and, lifting the child in her arms, slipped through the door without a sound. The rain still fell steadily, the turbulent roll of the lake lost only in thunder's roar. Once on the ragged rocks, Myra walked swiftly, afraid of the shadowy objects and ghostly
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sounds that spectered her path. She threw despairing glances about her, and shrank from the imaginary sneaking figures haunting the dismal night. Almost running, she reached the Letts' shanty. How soon would the officers come for Ben? They might have been there before her. The cabin was dark, and she tapped timidly upon the kitchen door. Only a great snore
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from the sleeping Ben inside answered her. Trying the latch, it lifted in her fingers, and she crept stealthily through the narrow aperture, encircling the child with her left arm. "Ben!" she whispered. "Ben!" The squatter turned, muttering sleepily. "Mammy! What be the matter, Mammy?" The fresh night air startled him. "Who air it?" he demanded hoarsely. "Myry," breathed the
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woman again. "Get up.... They air a-comin' to take ye to prison for the killin' of the gamekeeper. I comed to help ye, Ben Letts." The words soaked slowly into the sluggish brain. Tired from the beating Frederick had given him, and lazy by temperament, Ben did not at first realize that Myra's message meant the hangman's rope for him.
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He turned again in bed, and sat up. Were the officers of the law waiting for him? "Ezy air home," resumed Myra rapidly, leaning tensely toward him. "He walked through the rain from Ithacy. He says as how ye air goin' to be tooked to prison. I has the brat here with me ... we air a-goin' away.... Get up,
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Ben. Hustle yer bones!" The blue-jeans breeches, streaked with the blood of many a fish, were drawn on in a twinkling. The great squatter boots quickly covered the horny feet, and trembling, Ben waited for Myra to lead him from the cabin. "Where be we a-goin'?" he asked in a whisper. "I takes ye 'cross the lake to Ludlowville, and
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then we goes into the hills. A awful storm air a-scootin' along from the north, but we can't wait, for ye'll be took." By this time they were nearing the shore. The autumn lightning shot out from the sky, veering to the north and unmasking the black, raging lake and the distant city. A heavy roll of awe-inspiring thunder followed
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the flash. The man and woman did not speak until the flat boat topped the breaking waves. "The storm air a-goin' to be worse," shouted Ben, scanning the dark clouds. "It air foolhardy to try it, ain't it, Myry?" "Yep; but we go, all the same. I stays with ye, Ben!" He did not answer to this, nor did he
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ask a question then about the return of Ezra. He was satisfied that what he had supposed was the boy's wraith--the disembodied spirit of the lad he had thrown into the Hoghole--was the living Ezra Longman. On his way home from the Skinner hut, Ben had planned a terrible revenge upon the student and Tessibel, but the advent of this
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unforeseen discovery had placed his enemies beyond his reach. The thought of Tess brought a rasp from his throat. The creaking oars, under his experienced fingers, carried the boat far from the shadowy shore. Through the frequent lightning he could plainly see Myra in the stern, holding to the child. It was all ending differently from what he had hoped.
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That he had killed the gamekeeper he knew well, but, when Ezra Longman had disappeared into the Hoghole, Ben thought it took from the earth the only witness of his deed. On and on through the night sped the boat, until Myra and Ben could see the lights on the college hill. Here and there in the valley beyond, the
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lightning revealed a farmhouse, the inmates of which were quietly sleeping. Presently Ben spoke: "What hes Ezy been a-sayin'?" "Nothin' but that ye throwed him in the Hoghole, and tried to kill him, and that ye killed the gamekeeper." "Where hes he been all this time?" "I dunno. He air awful sick, and Ma put him to bed." Their voices
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rose high above the shrieking of the wind. Myra's last words were screamed out. The boat tossed like a bit of tinder, but it was in the hands of a fisherman: Ben knew how to keep it in and out of the troughs of the waves. Once the boat lurched mightily, and Myra gave a frightened cry, wedging the child
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between her knees. Higher and higher rolled the waves. "We hev got to bail the water out," yelled Ben. "Bail, Myry, while I rows." The mother grasped the sleeping child tighter between her knees, and began to throw the water into the lake. Suddenly a great wave half filled the boat. "Ye can't do it, Ben," Myra screamed. "Ye can't
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keep the boat top up, and we'll all die to once.... Does ye love yer brat, Ben Letts?" The voice, prophetic and high-pitched, struck terror to the heart of the fisherman. He stopped rowing, and shouted out over the waves for help. The lightning made day of the inky night for an instant, and the squatter Ben saw the woman,
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holding the child under one arm and clinging to the side of the boat with the other, creep toward him. "Keep away!" he bellowed. "Keep the boat top up!" Another flash.... She was closer, her white face and her staring eyes frightening him. He raised one great boot to ward her off, but she was at his side before it
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touched her. A large wave lifted one oar from the lock and bore it away on its crest. The boat, without pilot power, tipped dangerously. Loosening her hand from the side of the boat, Myra wound one arm about the knees of the squatter. "Ben Letts," she cried, shrieking the words into his ear, "kiss yer brat afore he dies
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with ye, will ye? Ye ain't so much as ever touched him." A dark storm-cloud broke directly over their head--one brilliant sheet flared the sky from the north to the south. The child, sleeping heavily under the drug, was close to the squatter's face. A revulsion of feeling overwhelmed Ben--approaching death aided the ghosts of his past bad deeds in
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their attack upon his wretched, over-wrought soul.... With a sob, he laid his lips upon the slumbering babe. A long kiss followed the first; another, and then another. Myra gasped, and drew the boy back to her. The boat reared high in the boiling, seething waves, and the next whitecap wrenched the child from her hands, snatching it into the
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water. "Ben Letts, our brat air gone!... There he be!... God!... There! There!" Through a sudden, resplendent flood of light, they saw the babe poised for one brief instant on a huge, foaming shoulder of the lake. In her frenzy the squatter woman was murmuring over and over strange, inarticulate words which Ben did not heed. Their arms were locked
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tightly about each other. Ben Letts slowly fixed his cold, shivering lips on those of the girl, drawing her closer and closer into his embrace. The majesty of death was upon them, this squatter father and mother. Another glare of light showed them still clinging together, but the one following failed to reveal either man, woman or boat. Professor Young
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knocked at the Skinner hut. Tess smiled at him from between the tatters of the curtain, and unlocked the door, standing, as her friend took the wooden rocker. "Daddy air a-comin' home," she breathed timidly. "Soon. Sit down, child. I have much to say to you.... We have discovered the murderer of the gamekeeper. We have positive proof that it
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was not your father." Tess squatted on the floor, crossed her legs, and waited. "Who were it?" she asked presently, as if afraid to speak. "Ben Letts." "The damn bloke!" she ejaculated, a dangerous light gathering in her eyes. "And he were a-lettin' Daddy be hung for his own dirty work! He air a wicked cuss, he air!" "Ezra Longman
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saw him when he committed the murder," Young told her, watching the interest gather in the eager face. "Letts used your father's gun. That accounts for his having been accused." Tess nodded her head. "Ezy were here last night," she commented quietly. "He were sick." "He was under my care for a long time," explained Young, "and last night escaped
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and walked home through the rain.... He is dead." "Dead!" gasped Tess. "Dead!" Impetuously she bent toward him, and finished: "Ezy Longman ain't dead!" "Yes, he is," replied Young. "He died in his father's hut, last night. I have just left there, and I feel heartily sorry for them both." "Myry?... Did ye see Myry?" "She's gone with Ben Letts."
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"Gone where?" "We don't know, but the officers are looking for them. I think the boy heard me tell the nurse that he would be held as a witness in your father's next trial. He must have warned Letts upon his arrival home, for--" "He knowed Myry loved Ben," broke in Tess. "That's what I thought," Young answered. "I found
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Longman and the mother mourning over the boy. They hope to hear from the girl soon." "If Myry and Ben was in the storm last night--" began Tess. "They may be dead," ended Young gravely. "Myra took her child with her. I found this note on the dead boy's bed, and brought it away with me. I would have liked
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to have put the boy on the witness-stand. Nevertheless, I hope to release your father on the evidence I have, without a trial." For several moments silence reigned in the hut. The sun streamed through the window, and a steamer sent a shrill whistle over the lake, the sound echoing among the rocks. Tessibel was thinking of Ezra Longman; Professor
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Young was thinking of her. Presently she leaned over, and took the letter from the man's hand, spelling out Myra's written message. "Myry air a-writin' so dum well," she observed, handing it back, "that I can't make it out. What air she a-sayin'? You read it." Young read the badly-spelled note. "I knowed the brat was Ben Letts'," she said,
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