"What do ye mean?" interjected Sandy, sullenly.
"I mean I want that matter dropped."
Letts merely grunted, for to acquire that information was one of the first things he intended to do, but there was no use telling the elder so.
"What ye want?" he muttered.
"I'll give you a hundred dollars to find out the name of the other man living at Young's."
"Done!" cried the squatter. "Do I get any of the dough, now?"
"Part of it, if you like," replied Waldstricker, slipping his hand into his pocket. "But listen to me. You're to come directly back here and tell me, when you find out. Discover his name, if you don't know the man. Do you understand?"
"I does that. You leave it to me. Then, I'll settle with Tess Skinner."
"As you please about her," consented Waldstricker. "Go along now. I'm busy."
CHAPTER XLV
ANDY VINDICATED
Lysander Letts left Waldstricker's office highly pleased. He was going to see Tess, and he had twenty-five dollars in his pocket. In the long hours of silent meditation in prison, he'd tried to outline that meeting, and to figure out how he could work Waldstricker. His errand provided for both contingencies.
He swaggered along the street, bumped into people roughly, and for his rudeness gave them oaths instead of apologies. At an inlet saloon, he displayed his money ostentatiously, and bought many drinks for himself and the "setters." The squatter's capacity for the Rhine whiskey had been impaired by his imprisonment, and it was not long before he began to feel the effects of his liquor. A full pint in his hip pocket, Sandy, finally, broke away from his companions and started up the railroad tracks for the Silent City. Staggering a little, he meditated with drunken seriousness what he had done and was going to do.
Famished by his detention in prison, he hungered for the sight of Tess.
All the fierce passion of his undisciplined nature clamored for her. And when he had her, he'd carry out all the brutalities conceived in the long nights in his cell. He'd find out the father of her boy. If that duffer, Waldstricker, could discover it, he could. He'd make Tess tell.
He'd show Young, too. He'd get even with the lawyer for helping send him to Auburn. His grievance grew more active every step he carried his load of liquor through the broiling sun, the long four miles from Ithaca.
"Wait till I get 'em," he muttered over and over, "I'll show 'em what's what."
Before he reached the lane leading past Young's place to the Skinner shack, he left the tracks and climbed the fence. Throwing his legs over the top, he sat down to enjoy the breeze which blew from the green lake, and, vibrating the leaves and bowing the shrubs and grasses, swept up and over the hill into the illimitable space beyond. Sandy wanted another drink, and reached back to his hip for it. The bottle stuck in the pocket and he jerked at it savagely. He pulled it out, but he, also, lost his balance, and in his efforts to save himself from falling, smashed the bottle on the top rail of the fence. The whiskey ran down to the ground and the thirsty moss drank it up.
Letts gazed at the jagged-edged glass in his hand, stupefied by the magnitude of his calamity. Then he drew a long breath and cursed his luck. He cursed the bottle, the fence, the whiskey, Waldstricker, who'd sent him, and Tess and the unknown man, on whose account he'd been sent.
His maledictions included everything except his own drunken clumsiness.
Bye and bye, he got down from the fence, muttering and grumbling to himself. Cautiously, in spite of his inflamed temper, he worked his way through the trees. There was no sign of life about the house, but large hammocks swung in the breeze on the porch. The squatter walked around and around, keeping far enough away so his movements could not be noticed. He stopped under a large tree to look up at the windows Waldstricker had described.
Attracted by a sound to his right, he wheeled about and saw Tessibel coming down the hill. His breath came sharply through his dark teeth.
Never had the girl been so desirable, and for the instant, he felt possessed to rush upon her, to take her in his arms, to hold her close.
Then, Waldstricker came into his mind. Before he worked his will on the squatter girl, he must find out the name of the unknown man. He had to please the elder to get the rest of the money. But to speak to her would be all right. He might discover something. He walked stealthily through the trees and placed himself so that when the girl turned toward the house, she would meet him face to face.
Tess was humming happily. When her eyes rested upon Lysander Letts, she stopped.
"Hello, brat!" grinned Sandy.
The girl didn't answer. His prison pallor fascinated her. It contrasted so sharply with the wind-tanned brown of the swarthy skin she remembered. All the accumulated horror of him, which had been forgotten while he was safely restrained at Auburn, swept over her.
"I said hello!" sniggered the other, once more. "Ain't ye glad to see me?"
Ignoring his question, the frightened girl assumed a haughtiness quite unusual, and in her turn questioned coldly,
"What do you want?"
"What do I want?" mocked Letts, not a whit disturbed by her manner. "I want you!"
Tessibel stepped to one side, but the squatter put himself in front of her, again.
"Now none of yer foolin'," he growled, and he added to his remarks a collection of sulphurous epithets.
"Sandy," commanded the young woman, still in her grand manner, "step out of my way! Right now! Do you hear?"
Unmoved, her drunken tormentor flung up his arms, hands open in assumed disgust.
"Well, hark to the way the squatter girl's talkin', will ye?" he sneered. "I'll take that outten ye, kid, afore I've had ye long. Where air yer brat?"
The brown eyes, responsive to his suggestion, glanced toward the house.
There was Boy coming slowly up the little path toward her. He dearly enjoyed the rare occasions when visitors came, and his face lighted up when he saw the man talking to his mother.
"Boy, run back home," she called.
Sandy made a dash down the hill toward the child, shouting curses and commands to him.
"Wait, kid! Don't ye move! I want ye."
The young mother instantly flew after him. Her swift feet took her on and on, up to and past the squatter whose speed was impaired by his years of confinement and the whiskey he'd swallowed. Then, she flung herself in front of the child and held out her arms.
"Stop, Sandy! Wait!" she panted. "I'll talk to you. Let the baby go home."
The race which had flushed the girl's cheeks and deepened her breathing, left the fat squatter wind-broken and exhausted.
"Let 'im go, then," gasped Sandy.
"Go back, Boy dear," urged Tess.
Boy didn't move. He seemed mesmerized by the strangely white face of the drunken man.
"Mummy, come home, too," he hesitated.
"Yer mummy can't. Git out, ye beggar, afore I kick ye!" threatened Sandy.
His breathing was easier but the discomfort he felt aggravated his ugly mood. He reached forth one of his great arms and, seizing the child by the shoulder, threw him roughly to the ground. The little one, more frightened than hurt, cried loudly. His shrill shriek of terror reached the ears of the dwarf. Alarmed, Andy sprang to the window and looked out.
The scene on the lawn below petrified him. Tess was picking up the child, and standing over her, fists doubled menacingly, was--Lysander Letts. Andy thought the enraged squatter was going to kill her and Boy.
Wholly forgetful of his own danger, he continued to watch.