From the Valley of the Missing Part 11

The lithe form had crept back to the ladder and had disappeared before Flukey slipped quietly from his bed and drew on the blue-jeans overalls.

As he stole through the kitchen, he could hear the snorts of Granny Cronk coming from the back room. The outside door stood partly open, and without hesitation he pa.s.sed through and closed it after him that the wind might not slam it. Then he limped along under the sh.o.r.e trees, up a little hill, and dropped out of sight into an open cavern, where Flea, a candle in her hand, sat in semidarkness.

The cave had been the children's playground ever since they could remember. Here they had come to weep over indignities heaped upon them in childhood; here they had come in joy and in sorrow, and now, in secret conclave in the early hours of the morning, they had come again.

"Ye're here!" said Flea in feverish haste. "I feared ye'd go to sleep again."

"Nope; I allers come when ye want me, Flea."

"Did ye steal tonight?"

"Yep."

"What did ye get?"

The boy shuddered, and a strange, hunted expression came into his eyes.

"Spoons, knives, clothes, and things," said he; "and I'd ruther be tore to pieces by wild bulls than ever steal again!"

His voice was toned with an unnatural ring. Wonderingly, Flea drew closer to him, the candle dripping white, round drops hot on the brown hand.

"But Pappy Lon says as how ye must steal, don't he?" she asked presently.

"Yep, and as how you must go with Lem."

"I won't, I won't! Pappy Lon can kill me first!"

She said this in pa.s.sionate anger; but, upon holding the candle close to Flukey's face, she exclaimed:

"Fluke, don't look like that--it scares me!"

He was piercing the dark ends of the cave, his eyes colored like steel.

They were softened only by shots of brown, which ran like chain lightning through them. The girl's gaze followed her brother's timidly; for he looked ahead, as if he saw something that threatened her and him.

In spite of her soft touch, the boy looked on and on in his unyielding fierceness at the fast approaching inevitable, which he had not been able to stem. That day a change had been ordered in their lives, and it had come upon him in the shape of a mental blow that hurt him far worse than if Pappy Lon had flogged him throughout the night.

"If Pappy Lon sends me next Sat.u.r.day to Lem," Flea ventured in an undertone, "then ye can't help me much, can ye, Fluke?"

The muscles of the boy's face relaxed, and he drew his knee up to his chest. "When my leg ain't lame I'm strong enough to lick Lem, if--if--"

"Nope; I ain't no notion for ye to lick him yet, Fluke. Do ye believe in the sayin's of Screech Owl?"

"Ye mean--"

"Do ye believe what she says when the bats be a flyin' round in her head, and when she sees the good land for you and myself, Flukey?"

"Did she say somethin' 'bout a good land for us, Flea?"

"Yep."

"Where's the good land?"

"Down behind the college hill, many a stretch from here--and, Flukey, I ain't a goin' to Lena's, and ye ain't likin' to be a thief. Will ye come and find the good land with me?"

"Girls can't run away like boys can. They ain't able to bear hurt."

Flea dropped her head with a blush of shame. She knew well that Flukey could perform wonderful feats which she had been unable to do. Grandma'm Cronk had told her that her dresses made the difference between her ability and Flukey's. With this impediment removed, she could turn her face toward the shining land predicted by Scraggy for Flukey and herself; she could follow her brother over hills and into valleys, until at last--

"I could wear a pair of yer pants and be a boy, too, and you could chop off my hair," she exclaimed. "All I want ye to do is to grow to be a man quick, and to lick Lem Crabbe if he comes after me. Will ye? Screechy says he's goin' to follow me."

"I'll lick him anywhere," cried the boy, his tears rising; "and if ye has to go to him, and he as much as lays a finger on ye, I'll kill him!"

His face was so rigidly drawn during his last threat that he hissed the words out through his teeth.

"Then ye'd get yer neck stretched," argued Flea, "and I ain't a goin' to him. We be goin' away to the good land down behind the college hill."

"When?" demanded Flukey.

"Tonight," replied Flea. "Ye go and get some duds for me,--a shirt and the other pair of yer jeans. Crib Granny's shears to cut my hair off.

Then we'll start. See? And we ain't never comin' back. Pappy Lon hates me, and he's licked ye all he's goin' to. Git along and crib the duds!"

She rose to her feet, nervously breaking away the little rivers of grease that had hardened upon her hand and wrist.

"Ye've got to get into the hut in the dark," she said, "and then ye stand at the mouth of the cave while I put on the things."

"How be we goin' to live when we go?" asked Flukey dully, making no move to obey her.

"We'll live in the good land where there be lots of bread and 'la.s.ses,"

she soothed; "the two dips in the dish at one time--jest think of that, ole skate!"

He tried to smile at her forced jocularity; but the hunted expression saddened his eyes again. To these children, brought up animal-like in the midst of misery and hate, their world revolved round their stomachs, too often empty. But this new trouble--the terror of Flea's going with Lem--had made a man of Flukey, and bread and mola.s.ses sank into oblivion. He was ready to shield her from the thief with his life.

"Get along!" ordered Flea.

Instead of obeying, the boy sat down on a rounded stone. "I'd a runned away along ago, if it hadn't been, for you, Flea."

"I know that you love me," said the girl brokenly; "I know that, all right!"

"I couldn't have stood Pappy Lon nor Lem nor none of the rest," groaned Flukey, "and I was to tell ye tonight to let me go, and I would come back for ye; but if ye be made to go with Lem--"

"That makes ye take me with you," gasped Flea eagerly. "Huh?"

"Yep, that makes me take ye with me, Flea; but if we go mebbe sometimes we have to go without no bread."

There was warning in his tones; for he had heard stories of other lads who had left the settlement and had returned home lank, pale, and hungry.

"I've been out o' bread here," encouraged Flea. "Granny's put me to bed many a time, and no supper. Get along, will ye?"

"Yep, I'm goin'; but I can't leave s.n.a.t.c.het. We can take my dorg, Flea.

Where's he gone?"

"We'll take him," promised Flea. "He's in the wood-house. Scoot and get the duds and him!"