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CHAPTER XVI THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY “No, no, the Fo’castle! I—Here they come!” Billy set down some cups with dangerous haste and ran out. “A new kind of hen,” retorted Moses..

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“I’ll get word from them in the morning. Don’t worry any more, but rest; sleep if you can. You can’t help them till you have helped yourself.” In the hours of joy that followed, joy known only to boys and farms in conjunction, Billy,—and it was unusual for him,—more than once recalled his mother’s words; heeded them to the extent of bidding Harold a reluctant good-bye when the sun was still blazing high above the horizon. But when, on his way home, he came to the branching of the road his good resolution weakened. He looked back. The sun was surely more than an hour high. He would have time to go up the hill road to the “Ha’nt.” And, beside that, he wished to look at the river where its divided flow encircled a tiny, shrub-grown island. Impressed with the importance of her task of instilling wisdom into the minds of her young listeners, Mrs. Wopp ignored this remark and continued the narrative into which she had already launched. “Well, I must get at my job, too. That’s thinking up things. You fellers do your work an’ get your money; but I got to rustle that money or bust.”.