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Billy peeped under the cover, not heeding the little girls’ protest. “Golly, May Nell! The Queen of Sheba won’t be in it ’long side of you.” “Here, let me do that,” Harold commanded; “you go and do the rest of your work. We won’t get to play in all day. The Gang coming?” “So they took up Joner an’ tossed him inter the sea.”.

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Mrs. Bennett knew better than Billy how much thumping a boy could live through; and reassured him while she took off his soiled garments, and started below for hot water and remedies. June had been unusually warm and dry, and careless early campers had already started their annual conflagrations. Now high over the crest of the mountain the flames came sweeping down; came with the wind from the valley on the other side where they had raged till fuel was exhausted. The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream. “That’s the gang we’ve been hunting through[213] five counties. Boy, you’ve done what the State’s been trying a long time to do. The reward’s a good lump; if we bag the game you shall have your share.”.