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He snatched up the demijohn and went into the store. Old Harry sat down on the bench and waited until he returned. "Wounded whistlers aren't as hard to retrieve as redhead or bluebill," said Stanhope. Billy started. "Oh gosh! I dunno, Mr. Spencer; I jest cut the first ones come into my head.".

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"Then let's get out of his way. I suppose he thinks we have no business here and maybe he's right. Where shall we go, Billy?" Recovery of the stolen goods caused considerable excitement in the Settlement. For a week or so nothing else was talked of and conjecture ran rife as to why the thieves had not made off with their pillage rather than hide it in the haunted house. Harry O'Dule came in for a plenty of praise for the part he had played in finding the loot but beyond hinting that the job had been more than easy for the seventh son of a seventh son, he was reticent on the subject. That he should have returned the liquor almost intact, to the owner, was a conundrum to all who knew him, with the exception of Billy and Maurice. "Why, maybe you're right," agreed Mrs. Keeler, "an' I do declare! I've got some hoarhound right here in this basket. Ain't it lucky I sent fer it?" Reading in the dry, suffering eyes she had turned upon him a purpose stronger than life itself, what could he do but take her in his arms and ask her to forgive him for the old meddler he was? Perhaps he had erred in this. He did not want to think so. But she looked so much like her mother that morning it might be—.