tied by the leg to a tree, and Snatchet snuggled warmly between the two
children. The dawning of day brought Flukey new anguish; for both knees
were swollen, and he groaned as he turned over.

Flea was up instantly. "Be ye sick?"

"Only the twist in my legs. I wish it wasn't so cold. If the sun would
only get warm!"

"We'll get to the good land today, Fluke," soothed Flea, "and ye can eat
all ye want, and sleep with a pile of covers on--as big--as big as that
there vault yonder."

"But we ain't in the good land yet, Flea," groaned Flukey, "and we're
all hungry. I wish I could 'arn a nickel. If ye didn't love the pig so
much, Flea, we could sell him. He's a growin' thinner and thinner every
minute, and Snatchet be that starvin' he could eat another mut bigger'n
himself."

The girl made no answer to this, but tucked Squeaky's pink nose under
the blue-shirted arm and sat mute.

Flukey, encouraged, went on. "Nobody'd buy Snatchet--he's only a poor,
damn, shiverin' cuss."

"If we selled Prince Squeaky, some'un'd eat him," mourned Flea. "He
ain't goin' to be e't, I says!"

So forceful were her tones that Flukey offered no more suggestions; but
stared miserably at the sun as it rose up from the east, dispersing the