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"Did you clear away the mess from Miss Acton's berth?" asked Mr Lawrence. Out behind the wood-shed Maurice Keeler, by the dim light of a smoky lantern, was splitting kindling for the morning's fire when something clammy and twisting dropped across the back of his neck. The boys glanced at each other. "You tell him," whispered Billy, but Maurice shook his head. "No, you," he whispered back..
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Conrad
A little later they went back up the road, side by side. Ringdo having heard the call of the forest-creek had strayed into the tangle, perhaps hoping to find a fat frog which had not yet sought its winter sleeping-bog. They paused to watch a red squirrel flash along the zig-zag fence and halt, with twitching tail, as the chatter of the black he was pursuing came down to him from swaying hickory tree-top. High overhead a flock of crows passed silently, black hurtling bodies seeming to brush the grey, low hanging skies as they melted into distance. High above, the shrill whistle of wings told of wild ducks seeking the marshes and the celery beds of the bay. "Oh no, oh no!" interposed Miss Acton; "she would not be our Lucy if she did." "He'll never find the Scroggie will," he would speak again. "He'll always be poor." The Admiral might have been observed to be calculating by the movement of his lips. "It will be a run, then," said he, "of about forty days.".
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