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"Looks like a good feedin' place, Moll," he addressed the spaniel as he paddled slowly across to the far shore of the slough. "Good grass here fer hidin', too; but not much chance of findin' a down bird without a good dog, an' I've got her—eh girlie?" He paused to survey the rows of uplifted faces and let his words sink home. Then lifting a long hickory pointer from his desk, and holding it much as a conjuror might hold his wand, he gripped the edge of the desk with one bony hand and leaning forward, said: "Gosh! ain't I been trying," groaned Maurice. "My teeth won't keep still a'tall. Maybe I won't be one glad kid when we get out 'a here.".
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"No," Hinter answered. "She didn't anchor off here; water's too shallow. She anchored off Gibson's Grove, five miles up the point. She's on her way back to Cleveland by now." He smiled and held out his hand. The other man took it dazedly, then slowly and with head lifted towards the darkening skies, he passed down the road. Mr Lawrence easily perceived that he didn't,[Pg 154] and went on his way always hunting with his eyes. Past the bridge he met another old man, a peasant with silver hair, fit, dressed as he was, to walk upon any stage, and immediately take part in any performance that included a peasant, a foster-child, and a baron. This white hair gave him a reverend look, and his legs were strangely bandaged round about, and his smock was a gown in which he could have preached a sermon without exciting much suspicion as to the propriety of his dress. "You see," Billy went on, "maybe the will'll be where the gold is. You be a real good feller an' show me where you found the gold-piece.".
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