“Skinner’d push men in prison before he’d help ’em get a decent job,” the good woman said with a jerk of her head. “He said he’s goin’ to clean all us scum out of this Basin—ain’t you heard?”
Yes, Skippy had heard only too well. He leaned over and timidly touched the woman’s work-worn hands, pledging his slim, manly self as an aid and comfort to herself and her two unfortunate children. In gratitude, she hugged the boy to her breast and hurried back to the Dinky O. Cross to put her young ones to bed.
Skippy cherished that embrace; it was the only maternal affection he had ever known. His eyes shone into the darkness with the joy of it and he hugged Mugs still closer in his arms and spent some time in reflecting on why he was so happy when he was so sad.
Josiah Flint and Marty Skinner rose up before his eyes. He was beginning to realize what sorrow they had brought to the river people—his people! A fellow feels things like that when he’s going on thirteen.
Thirteen! Skippy looked up into the starlit sky and blinked. Mugs’ even breathing was like the whisper of the breeze blowing about his head. And he went to sleep planning how he could save the menfolk of the Basin from future prison life. He would see that the boys went to school as he himself had wanted to do so badly and he would see that they got decent, honest wages so that they could live as other people did in houses with pretty gardens....
Tully found him still asleep when he came back at midnight.
CHAPTER XXIX
GOOD NEWS
“Skip—Skippy, kid!” Tully called, shaking the boy to arouse him.
Skippy sat up, startled. Mugs barked blatantly.
“What’s up, huh? You look as if something’d happened—what’s the matter?”