"God love us!" ejaculated Harry, dropping the knife with which he was stirring the potatoes and reaching for the demijohn. "An' fer why should ye be out on that wild goose chase, now?",
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.,
And now he was back again; and this time he did not intend to risk his life in those sucking sands. From a couple of dead saplings, with the aid of wild grape-vines, he fashioned a light raft which would serve as a support in the bog, and carry his weight in the putrid mire beyond. Strange sounds came to his ears as he worked his way across the desolate waste toward the first great pond—scurrying, rustling sounds of hidden things aroused from their security. Once a big grey snake stirred from torpor to lift its head and hiss at him. Billy lifted it aside with his pole and went on..
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