"She air well," answered Ben, thrown off his guard. He took out his pipe, and continued: "When ye comes to the shanty, ye can't bring that brat."
"Nope; I ain't a-goin' to bring him," Tess replied, whispering a prayer for aid.
"What be ye goin' to do with it?"
"I don't know yet." A muttered petition fell over the baby's face, but she said aloud: "I think it air a-goin' to croak."
"I's a-thinkin' so, too," Ben said thoughtfully. "He hes the look of death on his mug, Tessibel.... Air it yer brat?"
"He air mine now," she answered slowly, raising her head, "and I stays here with him till he dies."
"Nope; ye be a-comin' to my shanty to-morry. Mammy air expectin' ye.... And ye'll be glad to come--afore I gets done with ye!"
Tess shivered. She remembered Myra's broken wrist, and heard again the woful cry from the other squatter girl as she told of the harm done her. If she could get out of the shanty, she could run from him, but that would leave the child to his mercy. She glanced toward the door. Whatever came to her, she must protect the babe. Lifting him from his bed, she sat down at the oven, and extended the blue legs toward the heat.
"He air so damn thin," she said in excuse, "that he allers yaps if he air cold.... Have ye seen Myry's kid lately?"
"Yep; to-day. He air a-growin' a little more pert."
"Glad for Myry," was Tessibel's comment.
"Ye ain't heard nothin' from yer Daddy, have ye?" asked Ben, presently.
"Yep. I had a letter from him. He air a-comin' to the shanty as soon as he air out."
"He ain't a-goin' to get out!"
"Yep, he air; sure he air."
"Air he a-knowin' of yer brat?" Ben was staring at the child.
Tess stared back at him. She had forgotten that she had intimated that the baby was hers.
"I ain't tellin' Daddy nothin'.... His troubles be enough for him."
Her tone was low and bitter. She turned the babe with its back to the heat to gain time. She had almost decided to run away--she could not face Myra's fate.
"This durn stove ain't got no fire in it," she said, laying Baby Dan in the box. "I's a-goin' for a stick of wood!"
As Tessibel walked past him, Ben did not stop her--squatters never saved steps for their women. The girl flung open the door, but hesitated on the threshold. During the instant of her indecision, a silent panorama of night passed before her. Heavy rain clouds dipped almost to the dark water, obscuring the city and the University hill beyond. A great steamer attached to a number of canal boats lay as a thin black line in the center of the lake. An owl left the branches of the hut tree and circled into the safety of the shore willows, and a stealthy barn cat, with thread-like legs, crept from the water's edge toward the lane with a trailing dead fish in his jaws. He turned glistening green eyes upon Tess, and leapt away with his treasure.