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Up in the roomy loft which he and his step-brother, Anson, shared together, he lit the lamp. Anson was sleeping and Billy wondered just what he would say when he woke up in the morning and found his pants gone. Their mother had demanded that a pair of pants be thrown down to her. Billy needed his own so he had thrown down Anson's. He fell in beside Billy, adjusting his stride to the shorter one of the boy. In silence they walked until they reached a rise of land which had been cleared of all varieties of trees except maples. Sap-suckers twittered as they hung head downward and red squirrels chattered shrilly. In a cleared spot in the wood, beside a spring-fed creek, stood a sugar-shanty, two great cauldrons, upside down, gleaming like black eyes from its shadowy interior. A pile of wooden sap-troughs stood just outside the shanty door. Mrs. Wilson started so at his words that she rammed the cake of soap into Anson's mouth. She shivered. "And I'm very fond of them, only," she added as she followed him to the door, "I never know whether they want to eat me up or caress me.".