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It was just at this juncture that Fatty Watland arrived; smiling and panting, with the pail, borrowed from his mother, full of drinking water. It took him but a moment to learn from one of the boys what had transpired. It took him still less time to reach the platform. There, with much humiliation of spirit and many "sirs," he explained to the greatly surprised, and it must be confessed, secretly relieved Mr. Johnston, the true state of affairs. "What were the characters which could convince so shrewd and intelligent a man as Mr Lawrence that you were mad?" enquired Captain Acton, the habitual gravity of whose face was replaced by a constant expression of astonishment. "Well, Gee whitticker!" he exclaimed. "Who do you s'pose had the nerve to take it?".
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"Well?" His mother's voice dispelled the vision. "Are you goin' to answer me, Willium?" Billy braced himself and took a long breath. "We've made up our minds t' find old man Scroggie's will," he said. He was seated on a stump in the new clearing which sloped to Levee Creek, fingers locked about one knee, battered felt hat pulled over his eyes. The green slope at his feet lay half in the sunlight, half in the shadow. Across from a patch of golden-rod, the cock bird of a fox-scattered quail-covey whistled the "All's Well" call to the birds in hiding. Ordinarily Billy would have answered that call, would have drawn the brown, scuttling birds close about him with the low-whistled notes he could produce so well: but today he was oblivious to all save his thoughts. Maurice, who had listened open mouthed to his chum's narration, sighed deeply. "We had an awful time," he put in, only to receive a harder pinch for his pains..
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