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Here, with many low croaks, he proceeded to search his surroundings with quick, suspicious eyes, straining forward to peer closely at scrub or bush, then cunningly twisting about suddenly as though hoping to take some skulking watcher behind him unawares. Maurice scooted for the back door. He returned in a little while with white patches of cream adhering to chin and nose. "Gosh!" he sighed gratefully, "that was soothin'." "Oh gollies!" gasped Anson. "What's he huntin' copperheads fer, Bill?".

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Mrs. Wilson stood, the picture of amazement. "Have you gone stark and ravin' crazy, Anson?" she asked sternly. Then, anger mastering her, she reached for the broom standing in the corner. Anson promptly made his escape, but as he passed the open window, he gazed wildly in at his mother and cried again: "Don't you have nuthin' to do with that gold, Ma. If you do we'll all get burnt up in our beds, er get clawed to tatters!" "But," said Billy quickly, "the charm did work. It brought the snake, jest as I said it would." "It sure is heavy," agreed Billy. "I saw another sure sign over there in the ponds that says it's goin' to be a hard winter, one I've never knowed to fail. It was the mushrat houses. The rats are throwin' 'em up mighty big an' thick." "Which one?" Maurice asked sarcastically. "The good one er the blacked one?".