said, "Help me, Flukey, if ye can!" But she did not speak the words;
only stared at the hook-armed man with strained eyes.

"Flea ain't no notion of goin' away right yet, Pappy Lon," burst out
Flukey, catching his breath after the shock. "She's perferrin' to stay
with us; and I'll work for her keep, if ye let her stay."

"Nope, I ain't no notion o' marryin'," repeated Flea, encouraged by her
brother's insistence.

"Who said as how Lem wanted ye to marry him?" sneered Lon, eying her
from head to foot. "Yer notions one way or nother ain't nothin' to me,
my gal. Ye'll go with the man I choose for ye, and that's all there be
to it!"

Dazed by his first words, she whispered, "I hate Lem Crabbe!"

As if by its own volition, the hook rose threateningly to within a short
distance of the fair, appealing face. But it dropped again, as Lon
repeated:

"That ain't nothin' to do with the thing, nuther, Flea. A man ain't a
seekin' for a lovin' woman. He wants her to take care of his shanty and
what he gets by hard work, he does, and he gives her victuals and drink
for the doin' of it. That's enough for you, or for any gal what's a
squatter."

So well did Flea realize the powerlessness of the rigid boy at her side
to help her, that she dropped his hand and alone went nearer to the
thief.