Without remonstrance, the boy surrendered the wriggling burden, and they
started out once more.

"I wish we could find a nice, warm haystack," Flea commented; "it'd warm
up yer bones. Will we get to one, Fluke, after awhile?"

"Nope, 'cause we're comin' to a big city."

As he spoke, he motioned to where Tarrytown lay on the banks of the
Hudson River, several miles distant. Then they were silent a time; for
each young life was busy with the tragedy of living. Just what they
would do for a place to sleep Flea could not tell, since under the
compact made in the rock-cavern they would steal no more.

In the gathering twilight the two came upon the cemetery of Sleepy
Hollow, and here, tired, hungry, and despondent, they sat down to rest.

"It's gettin' night," said Flukey drearily. "I wonder where we'll
sleep?"

"Can't we squirm in this dead man's yard 'thout nobody seein' us?" asked
Flea, casting her eyes over the graves. "Ye can't walk no more tonight.
I ain't hungry, anyhow."

"Ye lie, Flea!" moaned Flukey. "Yer belly's as empty as Squeaky's or
Snatchet's. I've got to get ye somethin' to eat."

Nevertheless, without resistance, he allowed her to help him through the
large gate, and they struck off into the older part of the cemetery. All
through the night they lay dozing in the presence of the dead, Squeaky