From the Valley of the Missing | Page 9

a large practice when but a very young man. Then came the call for his force and strength to be used for the state, and, with a gratified smile, he accepted the votes of his constituents to act as district attorney. Then, as Lon Cronk had told, it came within the duty of the young lawyer to convict the thief of grand larceny committed three years before. After that Floyd married the lovely Fledra Martindale, and a year later his twin children were born--a sturdy boy and a tiny girl. The children were nearly a year old when Fledra Vandecar whispered another secret to her husband, and Vandecar, lover-like, had gathered his darling into his arms, as if to hold her against any harm that might come to her. This happened on the morning following the night when Silent Lon Cronk told the dark tale of suffering to his pals.
Just how Lon Cronk came to know the inner workings of the Vandecar household he never confided; but, biding his time, waited for the hour to come when the blow would be harder to bear. At last it fell, fell not only upon the brilliant district attorney, but upon his lovely wife and his hapless children.
* * * * *
One blustering night in March, Lem Crabbe's scow was tied at the locks near Syracuse. The day for the fulfilment of Lon Cronk's revenge had arrived. That afternoon Lon had come from Ithaca with his brother Eli to meet Lem.
"Be ye goin' to steal the kids tonight, Lon?" asked Lem.
"Yep, tonight."
"Why don't ye take just one? It'd make 'em sit up and note a bit to crib, say, the boy."
"We'll take 'em both," replied Lon decisively.
"And if we get caught?" stammered Crabbe.
"We don't get caught," assured Lon darkly, "'cause tonight's the time for 'em all to be busy 'bout the Vandecar house. I know, I do--no matter how!"
* * * * *
Wee Mildred Vandecar was ushered into the world during one of the worst March storms ever known in the western part of New York. As she lay snuggled in laces in her father's home, a tall man walked down a lane, four miles from Ithaca, with her sleeping sister in his arms. The dark baby head was covered by a ragged shawl; two tender, naked feet protruded from under a coarse skirt. Lon Cronk struggled on against the wind to a hut in the rocks, opened the door, and stepped inside.
A woman, not unlike him, in spite of added years, rose as he entered.
"So ye comed, Lon," she said.
"Course! Did Eli get here with the other brat?"
"Yep, there 'tis. And he's been squalling for the whole night and day. He wanted the other little 'un, I'm a thinkin'."
"Yep," answered Lon somberly, "and he wants his mammy, too. But, as I telled ye before, she's dead."
"Be ye reely goin' to live to hum, Lon?" queried the old woman eagerly.
"Yep. And ye'll get all ye want to eat if ye'll take care of the kids. Be ye glad to have me stay to hum?"
"Yep, I'm glad," replied the mother, with a pathetic droop to her shriveled lips.
Just then the child on the cot turned over and sat up. The small, tear-stained face was creased with dirt and molasses. Bits of bread stuck between fingers that gouged into a pair of gray eyes flecked with brown. Noting strangers, he opened his lips and emitted a forlorn wail. The other baby, in the man's arms, lifted a bonny dark head with a jerk.
For several seconds the babies eyed each other. Two pairs of brown-shot eyes, alike in color and size, brightened, and a wide smile spread the four rosy lips.
"Flea! Flea!" murmured the baby on the bed; and "Flukey!" gurgled the infant in Lon's arms.
"There!" cried the old woman. "That's what he's been a cryin' for. Set him on the bed, Lon, for God's sake, so he'll keep his clack shet for a minute!"
The baby called "Flea" leaned over and rubbed the face of the baby called "Flukey," who touched the dimpled little hand with his. Then they both lay down on a rough, low cot in the squatter's home and forgot their baby troubles in sleep.
* * * * *
The kidnapping of the twins was discovered just after Fledra Vandecar had presented her husband with another daughter, a tiny human flower which the strong man took in his hands with tender thanksgiving. The three days that followed the disappearance of his children were eternal for Floyd Vandecar. The entire police force of the country had been called upon to help bring to him his lost treasures. So necessary was it for him to find them that he neither slept nor worked. He had had to tell the mother falsehood after falsehood to keep her