When the shanty was quiet a girl's figure shrouded in black curls crawled across the hut floor to the loft ladder. Flea ascended quickly; but halted at the top to catch her breath. She could hear from the other side of the partition the sound of Lon's heavy snores, and from the corner came the lighter breathing of her brother. Through the small loft window the moonbeams shone, and by them Flea could see the boy's dark head and strong young arm under the masses of thick hair. She began to crawl toward the cot, wriggling like a huge worm across the bare boards. Several times she paused, trying to suppress her frightened heartbeats. Then, lifting her hand, she placed it over Flukey's mouth and whispered: "Fluke, Fluke, wake up! It's Flea!" Flukey made no movement to dislodge his tightly pressed lips from the trembling fingers. The gray eyes flashed open; but the lad lay perfectly still. "Fluke," breathed Flea, "I'm goin' to the cave. Slip on yer pants, and don't wake Granny Cronk nor Pappy Lon!" If it had not been that the boy pressed his fingers on the blanket, Flea would have wondered if her brother had heard. The lithe form had crept back to the ladder and had disappeared before Flukey slipped quietly from his bed and drew on the blue-jeans overalls. As he stole through the kitchen, he could hear the snorts of Granny Cronk coming from the back room. The outside door stood partly open, and without hesitation he passed through and closed it after him that the wind might not slam it. Then he limped along under the shore trees, up a little hill, and dropped out of sight into an open cavern, where Flea, a candle in her hand, sat in semidarkness. The cave had been the children's playground ever since they could remember. Here they had come to weep over indignities heaped upon them in childhood; here they had come in joy and in sorrow, and now, in secret conclave in the early hours of the morning, they had come again. "Ye're here!" said Flea in feverish haste. "I feared ye'd go to sleep again." "Nope; I allers come when ye want me, Flea." "Did ye steal tonight?" "Yep." "What did ye get?" The boy shuddered, and a strange, hunted expression came into his eyes. "Spoons, knives, clothes, and things," said he; "and I'd ruther be tore to pieces by wild bulls than ever steal again!" His voice was toned with an unnatural ring. Wonderingly, Flea drew closer to him, the candle dripping white, round drops hot on the brown hand. "But Pappy Lon says as how ye must steal, don't he?" she asked presently. "Yep, and as how you must go with Lem." "I won't, I won't! Pappy Lon can kill me first!" She said this in passionate anger; but, upon holding the candle close to Flukey's face, she exclaimed: "Fluke, don't look like that--it scares me!"