"Daddy!" she murmured, but if he heard, he did not heed. He was gazing steadily at something over and beyond her head, and then he smiled at it. In superstitious dread, the squatter girl glanced where the faded eyes were directed. What had he seen? A face, perhaps, or the passing shade that always haunted a squatter shanty when some one was dying, but then, many times she, too, had seen faces in the rafters up there among the dry nets. "My pretty brat," were the words that brought her startled eyes back to her father. Her throat filling with heavy sobs, she went over and kissed him stormily. The horny, stiff fingers gathered a few of her red curls and drew them slowly upward until parched lips touched them, while tears stole from under withered lids, and Tess cried out in sharp anguish. "Daddy Skinner, I can't live without ye!" she moaned, cupping his face with her hands. "Take Tessibel with ye; take 'er, please!" She cuddled at his side, lifted one of his heavy arms and put it around her in pleading anguish. Just then it seemed as if it would put off the approach of death if she insisted on staying within the broad grasp of Daddy Skinner's arms. She was wiping away his tears, tenderly touching the dying face with faltering fingers. "I saw yer ma," choked Skinner thickly, and he smiled again. Tess turned her head, a dreadful sinking in her soul. Her mother's face, then, was what Daddy had seen away off up there among the rafters. The mother who had died so long ago had come after her dear one. Drawing one tense set of fingers backward across her cheek, Tess stood up quickly. Perhaps--perhaps-- She threw a glance at the ceiling. Daddy Skinner had seen her mother. They were going away together. If they would but take her with them! She turned unsteadily to go she knew not where, but the sound of her father's voice brought her quickly back. "Brat," he faltered, "lean down--I want to tell ye somethin'." Tess bent her ear close to the thick blue lips. "I air here, Daddy! Tess air here," she mourned. Long, laboring breaths moved the red curls hanging about the girl's rigid face. "I said as how I air here, Daddy," she murmured again, touching him. But Daddy Skinner was once more gazing into the dark rafters, his jaws apart, the greyness of death settling about his mouth. "Daddy! Daddy!" screamed Tess. "Don't look like that! Don't go away--oh, Daddy, please!... Andy! Andy!" The dwarf slipped down the ladder, and dropped at the side of the bed. The dog roused from his nap by the stove was already there, nuzzling his tawny head against his distressed friend, while he made inarticulate sounds of sympathy in his deep throat. "Pal Skinner!" Andy cried, white with apprehension. "Give us a word, old horse." Placing his hand upon Pete's collar, the dwarf drew him, with a word of command, to the floor beside him.