"Can't see no good a swipin' kids. What do ye want with 'em?"
"I'll tell ye if ye sit up and listen to me."
Crabbe dropped his hooked arm and leaned against the wall. Eli lighted a pipe. A mysterious change had passed over Silent Lon's face. The blue eyes glowed out from under a massive brow, and a mouth cruel and vindictive set firm-jawed over decayed teeth.
"I'll tell ye this much for all time, Lem Crabbe: that ye lied when ye said that no woman could love no man—ye lied, I say!"
So fierce had he become that the man with the hook drew back into the corner and sat staring sullenly. Eli puffed more vigorously on his pipe.
Lon went on:
"I had a woman oncet," said he, "and she were every bit mine. And she were little—like this."
The big fellow measured off a space with his hand and, straightening again, stood against the wall of the scow, his head reaching almost to the ceiling.
"She were mine, I say, and any man what says she weren't—"
"Where be she?" interrupted Lem curiously.