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"It's jest a bad cold he's caught," Billy reassured her. "He's so hoarse he can't speak." "No," supported Landon, "weather's too warm, you see, Chick. I'll start in on dressin' 'em right now," he chuckled, exchanging winks with Billy. They stepped out into plain view of the crow, who was muttering to the gold-piece which he now held before his eyes in one black claw. Croaker lowered his head and twisted it from side to side in sheer wonder. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Then as Billy stepped forward and called him by name his black neck-ruff arose in anger and, dropping his prized bit of gold, he poured out such a torrent of abuse upon the boy and girl that Lou put her fingers in her ears to stop the sound..
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"You, Anse!" came Mrs. Wilson's voice. "Have I gotta limber you up with the strap, after all?"I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
"You shet right up, Tom!" commanded his wife. "Ain't it nuthin' to you that your son grows up wild and uneddicated?"
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Conrad
Keeler thrust out a huge hand. "That's me," he answered. "You're jest in time fer breakfast. It's nigh ready. Come 'round back an' wash up. Maurice, go put the teacher's horse in the stable an' give him a feed." Billy shook his head. "The crow black bird don't want to be bothered with hatchin' an' feedin' her own young. That's why she lays in other bird's nests," he explained. "She jest lays her egg an' beats it out o' there. The other poor little bird waits for her to go. Then she goes back to her nest, glad enough to find it hasn't been torn to bits." "Naw, you know what they'd do. They'd let the cat out o' the bag sure. They're all right fer light work sech as swipin' watermelon an' helpin' make a seine-haul but they ain't no good at treasure an' will huntin'." Greyquill, who saw little to fear in the pursuit of a man with a wooden leg, turned his head upon his shoulder and cried back: "There are too many of us.".
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