From the Valley of the Missing | Page 2

gaze dropped to the scow, where little rivers of water
made crooked paths across the deck. Piles of planks reared high at her
back, and edged the scow with the squareness of a room. Scraggy knew
that hauling lumber was but the cover for a darker trade. Yet as she
glanced at the stolid, indifferent man trudging behind the mules a
lovelight sprang into her eyes.
Later, by an hour, the mules came to a halt at Lem's order.
"Throw down that gangplank, Scraggy," stammered Crabbe, "and put
the brat below! I want to get these here mules in. The storm'll be here in
any minute."
Obediently the woman hastened to comply, and soon the tired mules
munched their suppers, their long faces filling the window-gaps of the
stable.
Lem Crabbe followed the woman down the scow-steps amid gusty
howls of the wind, and the night fell over the city and the black,
winding river. The man ate his supper in silence, furtively casting his
eyes now and then upon the slender figure of the woman. He chewed
fast, uttering no word, and the creaking of the heavy jaws and the
smacking of the coarse lips were the only sounds to be heard after the
woman had taken her place at the table. Scraggy dared not yet begin to
eat; for something new in her master's manner filled her with sudden
fear. By sitting very quietly, she hoped to keep his attention upon his
plate, and after he had eaten he would go to bed. She was aroused from
this thought by the feeble whimper of her child in the tiny room of the
scow's bow. Although the woman heard, she made no move to answer
the weak summons.

She rose languidly as the child began to cry more loudly; but a
command from Lem stopped her.
"Set down!" he said.
"The brat's a wailin'," replied Scraggy hoarsely.
"Set down, and let him wail!" shouted Lem.
Scraggy sank unnerved into the chair, gazing at him with terrified eyes.
"Why, Lem, he's too little to cry overmuch."
"Keep a settin', I say! Let him yap!"
For the second time that day Scraggy's face shaded to the color of ashes,
and her gaze dropped before the fierce eyes directed upon her.
"Ye said more'n once, Scraggy," began Lem, "that I wasn't to drink no
more whisky. Whose money pays for what I drink? That's what I want
ye to tell me!"
"Yer money, Lem dear."
"And ye say as how I couldn't drink what I pay for?"
"Yep, I has said it," was the timid answer. "Ye drink too much--that's
what ye do! Ye ain't no mind left, ye ain't! And it makes ye ugly, so it
does!"
"Be it any of yer business?" demanded Lem insultingly, as he filled his
mouth with a piece of brown bread. After washing it down with a drink
of whisky, he finished, "Ye ain't no relation to me, be ye?"
The thin face hung over the tin plate.
"Ye ain't married to me, be ye?"
And, while a giant pain gnawed at her heart, she shook her head.

"Then what right has ye got to tell me what to do? Shut up or get
out--ye see?"
He closed his jaw with a vicious snap, resting his half-dazed head on
his mutilated arm. Louder came the baby's cries from the back room.
Thinking Lem had ended his tirade, Scraggy made a motion to rise.
"Set still!" growled Crabbe.
"Can't I get the brat, Lemmy?" she pleaded. "He's likely to fall offen
the bed."
"Let him fall. What do I care? I want to tell ye somethin'. I didn't bring
ye here to this boat to boss me, ye see? Ye keep yer mouth shet 'bout
things what ye don't like. Ye're in my way, anyhow."
"Ye mean, Lemmy, as how I has to leave ye?"
Crabbe regarded the appealing face soddenly before answering. "Yep,
that's what I mean. I'm tired of a woman allers a snoopin' around, and a
hundred times more tired of the brat."
"But he's yer own," cried the woman, "and ye did say as how ye'd
marry me for his sake! Didn't ye say it, Lem? He ain't nothin' but a
baby, an' he don't cry much. Will ye let me an' him stay, Deary?"
"Ye can stay tonight; but tomorry ye go, and I don't give a hell where,
so long as ye leave this here scow, an' I'm a tellin' ye this--" He halted
with an exasperated gesture. "Go an' get that kid an' shet his everlastin'
clack!"
Scraggy bounded into the inner room, and, once out of sight of the
watchful eyes of Lem, snatched up the infant and pressed her lips
passionately to the rosy skin.
"Yer mammy'll allers love