"Of course the timber's worth a lot," sparred Billy.
"But Dad don't need it," Jim declared. "He's rich now."
"He is?" Billy respected the new boy for the nonchalance of his tones. Riches hadn't made him stuck up, at any rate.
"Yep," went on Scroggie, "Dad owns some big oil wells in the States. He ain't got any business down here anyways, but he's so pig-headed you can't tell him anythin'; I'll say that much, even if he is my father. It's bad enough for him to lug me away from town, but he made Lou come along, too."
"Lou?"
"She's my sister," Jim explained proudly. "She's a year younger'n me. Dad says she looks just like Mother looked. I guess that's the reason she kin do most anythin' she likes with him. But she couldn't get him to let her stay in Cleveland. He brought her along and Aunt too. Aunt keeps house for us."
"I guess your Dad don't think much of us folks down here, does he?" Billy asked.
Scroggie chuckled. "Dad ain't got any use for anybody, much," he answered. "I never heard him say anythin' about any of the people of the Settlement but once, and that was just t'other night. He come home lookin' as if somebody had pushed his head into a crate of eggs. I was too scared to ask him how it happened and Lou wouldn't. Dad said the people 'round here are a bad lot and it wouldn't surprise him if they tried to kill him."
Billy threw back his head and laughed, the first hearty laugh he had known for days. Scroggie, in spite of the pain his swollen lips caused him, laughed too.
"Say," he remarked, hesitatingly, "you got a great laugh, Billy."