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Sunday-night prayer meeting was just over. The worshippers had gone from the church in twos and threes. Deacon Ringold had remained behind to extinguish the church lights and lock up. As he stepped from the porch into the shadows along the path, a small hand gripped his arm. "Anse!" she snorted. "Who's talkin' about Anse? It's Croaker I mean. Look here what that darlin' crow brought me jest a few minutes ago." Maurice scratched his head thoughtfully. "Say, you know a lot about snakes an' things, don't you?" he said admiringly..

The next day, at a little past two, Johnny Blossom was again in Aunt Grenertsen’s garden. He had gulped down his dinner at an alarming rate, and then hurried to King Street, stopping on his way to get Tellef; for there must be one person to climb and shake the tree and one to stand below and pick up the apples. However, Tellef must stay outside the garden until Aunt Grenertsen had been informed that Johnny had brought an assistant.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 “Are you going to plant it again this year?”

Billy followed slowly, hoping, fearing, trusting that Croaker's intentions were of the best. The crow was carrying on a murmured conversation with himself, flapping his wings, nodding his head sagely and in other ways manifesting his eagerness to accommodate his master. When he grew tired of walking he flew and Billy had to run to keep him in sight. Straight through the grove, across the green valley and on through the stumpy fallow went the crow, Billy panting and perspiring behind. Straight on to the pine-hedged creek and still on, until the lonely pine grove of the haunted house came into view. "Croaker," he addressed the bird, "you must'a found ol' Scroggie's gold. He had the only gold money this country ever saw, so you must have found it some way. I don't s'pose it'll do Teacher Stanhope any good, 'cause it'll go to Jim Scroggie's father, but, Croaker, it's up to us to get that money an' turn it over; hear me?" "Course they did," Harry agreed. "Ut's no fool you take me fer, shurely?" "Help me to turn him over, sir," said Mr Fellowes. "I don't think he is dead.".