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"What is your name, boy?" asked the teacher. "Still, he might recognise my claim and your debt, and treat me perhaps with the commiseration with which he would pity himself if he lost three hundred pounds." "You had it in your hand when th' ghost poked its blue tongue in our faces," affirmed Maurice. "I saw it.".

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Mr Eagle looked a very mean sort of man as he walked the deck. Neither by form, face, nor manner did he express individuality or character. The sole feature noticeable in him was a look of sullenness, a sour, sneering, quarrelsome air about the mouth, to be found perhaps in the curve of his thin lips. Mrs. Wilson sank down on a chair. "Willium's right," she sighed. "Anson's mind is gettin' a little unbalanced. I'll have to put him on diet and feed him slippery-elm bark and alloways." He was a man of rough appearance whose hand had been in the tar-bucket for most of his life—a hard, reserved man, shy, so ignorant that he read with difficulty, and wrote his name as painfully as a hand tortured with gout inscribes with the pen. Arriving at the lake the boys learned after careful reconnoitering that everything was clear for immediate action. Not a light glimmered from the homes of the fishermen, to show that they were awake and vigilant..