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Billy stared at his mother in amazement. "Jest what has Anse ever did fer you, Ma?" he asked wonderingly. Ringold nodded approval. "All right, Neighbor Watland. Anybody else got anythin' to say?" Spotba, the big mottled marsh snake, sensing Billy's presence, uncoiled himself and raised his head along the screen of his cage; the brown owl hooted a low welcome that died in a hiss as Harry groaned again..
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Billy pursed up his lips in thought. "Say!" he cried, "I've got it. You go on back there where you played possum, an' wait fer Anse. When he comes he's goin' to beg a favor of you, sure as shootin'. He played a dirty trick on me not long ago an' he's been keepin' out of my way ever since. Lied to me so's to get me to thrash a feller that licked him. I'll tell you all about it later. Anse is goin' to ask you to square it with me; he's jest that kind. You promise to get him off this time if he goes away an' leaves you by yourself. Then you come back here, see?" Once safely out on the road they paused to look back. "Well, I'm goin' to do my duty by you both, allars," Mrs. Wilson spoke in matter-of-fact tones, as she reached for her sewing-basket. "When I feel you need checkin' up, Tom Wilson, checked you're goin' to be, an' when Willium needs a hidin' he's goin' to get a hidin'. An'," she added, as her husband got up from his chair, saying something about having to turn the horses out to pasture, "you needn't try to side-track me from my duty neither." Mrs. Wilson stood, the picture of amazement. "Have you gone stark and ravin' crazy, Anson?" she asked sternly. Then, anger mastering her, she reached for the broom standing in the corner. Anson promptly made his escape, but as he passed the open window, he gazed wildly in at his mother and cried again: "Don't you have nuthin' to do with that gold, Ma. If you do we'll all get burnt up in our beds, er get clawed to tatters!".
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