"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 Snatchet. 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!"

The boy toiled up the rocks to the top of the cave, and Flea heard his
departing steps for a moment, then seated herself in tremulous fear.

Flukey pushed open the cabin door, listened a moment, and stepped in. No
sound save of loud breathing came from the back room where the old woman
slept. At the top of the ladder he could hear Lon snoring loudly. Flukey
crawled upon his knees to a small box against the wall. He pulled out a
pair of brown overalls and a blue shirt, and with great caution crept