"I'll tell ye if ye sit up and listen to me."

Crabbe dropped his hooked arm and leaned against the wall. Eli lighted a
pipe. A mysterious change had passed over Silent Lon's face. The blue
eyes glowed out from under a massive brow, and a mouth cruel and
vindictive set firm-jawed over decayed teeth.

"I'll tell ye this much for all time, Lem Crabbe: that ye lied when ye
said that no woman could love no man--ye lied, I say!"

So fierce had he become that the man with the hook drew back into the
corner and sat staring sullenly. Eli puffed more vigorously on his pipe.

Lon went on:

"I had a woman oncet," said he, "and she were every bit mine. And she
were little--like this."

The big fellow measured off a space with his hand and, straightening
again, stood against the wall of the scow, his head reaching almost to
the ceiling.

"She were mine, I say, and any man what says she weren't--"

"Where be she?" interrupted Lem curiously.

"Dead," replied Lon, "as dead as if she'd never been alive, as dead as
if she'd never laid ag'in' my heart when I wanted her! God! how I wanted
her!"