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This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him. With a boy’s cunning and swiftness Billy made a running creep through the underbrush up the steep mountain side. From a peephole higher up he stopped, breathless, and watched them beat the chaparral round about where he had stood; saw them go down into the road, look each way, turn and scan the mountain; and at last slink off, one to the house, the other to the vineyard. “All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap..

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“I’m so sorry our afternoon has been spoiled,” she apologized. “While we wait we might as well have a cup of tea. Maria, rinse the silver teapot with boiling water.” “You hitch Jethro to yer ole ’xpress waggon, ’n I’ll hitch Job to a prune-box with spool-wheels,” suggested Betty. “Right—now—are you?” The arm that was around Bouncer tightened, and she thought her “heart would fly right up into her throat.” The roar of the flames came dreadfully near. Trees cracked, crashed and fell, sending up columns of sparks and cinders that dropped about the panting climbers. Billy began to wonder if he would hold out to the end of his task. His boy’s agility had easily outdone the man’s; but he had made the trip once before that day, had ridden from town at a killing speed; and now his endurance was almost at an end, while the Sheriff was getting his “second wind.”.