From the Valley of the Missing | Page 7

But he jest laughed
till--"
Lon stopped speaking, and neither listener moved. For a moment he
lowered his head to the small boat window and gazed out into the
vapors hanging low over the opposite bank.
Turning again, he backed up to the scow's side and proceeded in a
lower voice:
"When they telled me she were dead, they had to set me in the jacket,
buckled so tight ye could hear my bones crack. The warden ain't got no
blame comin' from me, 'cause I smashed his face afore he'd done tellin'
me. And I felled the keeper like that!" He raised a knotty fist and thrust
it forth. "But it were all 'cause I wanted to be with her so, 'cause I
couldn't stand the knowin' that she'd gone a callin' and a callin' me!"
He was quiet so long that Eli Cronk drew his sleeve across his face to
break the oppressive stillness. Here, in the dead of night, his somber
brother had been transformed into another creature,--a passionate
creature, responding to the call of a dead woman, a man whose hatred
would carry him to fearful lengths.
The hoarse voice broke forth again:
"Midge darlin', dead baby, and all that ye had belongin' to me, I do it
for you! I'll steal his'n, and they'll suffer and suffer--"
He tossed up his great head with a jerk, crushing the sentiment from his
voice.
"But that don't make no matter now," he muttered. "I'm goin' to take his
kids! He's got two, an' he's prouder'n a turkey cock of 'em. I'll take 'em
and I'll make of 'em what I be--I'll make 'em so damn bad that he won't
want 'em no more after I get done with 'em! I'll see what his woman

does when she finds 'em gone! Will ye help, Lem--Eli?"
"Yep, by God, you bet!" burst from both men at once.
"I'll take 'em to the squatter country, up to Mammy's," Lon proceeded,
"and, Eli, if ye'll take one of 'em on the train up to McKinneys Point,
I'll take t'other one up the west side of the lake. I'll pay all the way, Eli;
it won't be nothin' out o' yer pocket. We'll tell Mammy the kids be
mine--see? And ye can have all there be in this here room. Be it a
bargain?"
"Yep," assured Eli, and Lena's consent followed only an instant later.
After that there were no sounds save the snip, snip, snip of the pliers
and the occasional low grating from a jeweled trinket as the steel hook
gouged into the metal.
CHAPTER THREE
As Eli Cronk said, Scraggy Peterson left her lonely squatter home two
weeks before with no companion but her vicious black cat. The woman
had intervals of sanity, and during those periods her thoughts turned to
a dark-haired boy, growing up in a luxurious home. In these rare days
she donned her rude clothing, and with the cat perched close to her thin
face walked across the state to Tarrytown. Several times during the five
years after leaving Lem's scow she walked to Tarrytown, returning only
when she had seen the little boy, to take up her squatter life in her
father's hut. So secretive was she that no one had been taken into her
confidence; neither had she interfered with her child in any way. Never
once, hitherto, had her senses left her on those long country marches
toward the east; but often when she turned backward she would utter
forlorn cries, characteristic of her malady.
* * * * *
At eight o'clock, four hours before Lon Cronk opened his heart to his
companions, Scraggy, footsore and weary, entered Sleepy Hollow
Cemetery and seated herself on the damp earth to gather strength. By
begging and stealing she had managed to reach her destination; but

now for the first time on this journey the bats were in her head,
sounding the walls of her poor brain with the ceaseless clatter of their
wings. Still the mother heart called for its own, through the
madness--called for one sight of Lem's child and hers. At length after a
long rest she turned into a broad path which she knew well, and did not
halt until she was staring eager-eyed into the window of Harold
Brimbecomb's house which stood close to the cemetery.
[Illustration: FOR MIDGE'S SAKE.]
To the left of the Brimbecomb's was the mansion, belonging to the
orphans of Horace Shellington. The young Horace and his sister Ann
were the favorite companions of Everett Brimbecomb, now six years
old. He was a strong, proud, handsome lad. Many conjectures had been
made concerning him by the Tarrytown people, because one day five
years before the delicate, light-haired wife of Mr. Brimbecomb had
appeared with a dark-haired baby