Part 51 (2/2)
”Then, if ye has Flea, Lem,” said Lon, looking keenly at the scowman, ”and ye git yer share of money, ye has to share up yer half with me.
See?”
”Yep,” muttered Lem. ”Will ye bring the feller down here some day, and we'll talk it over?”
Lon acquiesced by a nod of his head, saying only, ”Come on out, and let's get a drink.”
”When's he goin' to git 'em--Flea and Flukey, I mean?”
”I dunno. The boy's too sick to come to court. He's liable to die any minute.”
Lem started forward at the unexpected word.
”If he croaks, be ye goin' to leave Flea there?”
”Not by a d.a.m.n sight! We'll git her, and I don't care if the boy goes dead afore mornin'. I only want him to suffer, and die if he wants to.
And, Lem,” Lon smiled evilly, and, looking into the swart face of his pal, said, ”and I guess ye can make the gal come to yer likin'.”
Lem's throat worked visibly, his face reddened by the silent laughter that shook him.
”I only want the chance,” he said. ”Come on and let's git a drink.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Everett Brimbecomb had become impatient. He missed his evenings with Ann, and was tortured with the thought that Horace was with Fledra.
Every day made his hatred for his former friend more deadly, more vindictive, and he not only desired to take the squatter girl away, but he felt impelled to separate Ann from her brother. He received a badly spelled note from Lon with a feeling of thanksgiving. Something had happened to make the squatter wish to see him. So, after dinner, he took the direction Lon had given, and reached the scow in a heavy rain. It was much more to his liking that the evening should be stormy; for no person of his own station in life would be apt to be abroad on such a night.
As he entered the living-room of the scow, Everett bowed frigidly to Lem Crabbe, and forgot to extend his hand to Lon.
”You sent for me,” he said in a low tone, looking at the squatter.
”Yep. I knowed ye wanted to see Lem, and I thought as how ye'd ruther come here than have him come along to yer office. Ain't that right?”
”I believe I told you so,” responded Everett coldly, as he took his place in a rickety chair.
”Ye said, didn't ye, Mister, that ye wanted the handlin' of Flea after we took her away from that meddlin' millionaire?”
”Yes.”
”And I telled ye that ye had to make a bargain with Lem, 'cause he had first right to her. What ye willin' to give?”
”How much money do you want to withdraw your claim from the girl?”
”I ain't thought 'bout no price,” replied Lem covertly.
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