"Rats! Scoot along with ye, and take yer cat and get out!"
Scraggy had not noticed the blood oozing from Lem's, cheek until she had received her dismissal. She passed a long, red, bare arm about the animal and asked:
"Who bit yer cheek, Lem?"
"Who says it were bit?"
"I say it. I see white teeth a goin' in it. And I see red lips ag'in' it with deadly hate."
Lem glanced forbiddingly at the woman. "The bats be a comin' again," he muttered, "and there ain't no tellin' what she'll do. If it wasn't for that blasted cat, I'd chuck her in the lake!"
But he dared not carry out his threat; for Scraggy was muttering to herself, the cat rebuffing her rough handling.
In another minute she rose and made toward the steps. Her eyes fell upon Lem, and sanity flashed back into them.
"I gived the boy to the woman—with golden hair," she stammered, as if some power were forcing the words from her. "Ye would have killed him. Yer kid be a livin', Lem!"
Truth rang in her statement, and the man got to his feet abruptly. He had almost forgotten the black-haired little boy. Only when Scraggy's name was mentioned to him did he remember. But the woman's words awoke a new feeling in his heart, and mentally he counted back the years to the date of his son's birth. Scraggy was still looking at him in bewilderment, scarcely realizing that her story had been told to the enemy of her child. She battled with a desire to blurt out the whole truth; but the man's next words silenced her.