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Wilson whistled. "What in the world does he want with that swamp, I wonder?" he cried. Anson's face reddened. "You needn't get funny!" he cried, angrily. "Any feller's liable to black an eye runnin' agin a tree, in the dark." Harry, who had picked up his hat and taken his tin whistle from his bosom, shook his head. "There's no sech place, I'm thinkin'," he answered..

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Walter Watland looked about for a good place in which to conceal his package of sulphur and decided that in the empty stove he had discovered the place of all places. So, while Anson and Elgin were investigating the teacher's desk and picking out their seats, he proceeded to hide his sulphur in the stove's black depths. Then he went outside with his companions to await the coming of the new teacher. "Mr Pledge," cried Mr Lawrence, "clap that man in irons! go and fetch them, sir!" and rounding again upon the man, and approaching him by several paces, he pulled the pistol from his pocket and levelling it direct at the man's head, cried in a tone that left not an instant's doubt of his resolution in the mind of every man who saw and heard: "If you utter another syllable I'll send this ball through your brains!" Hinter held out his hand. "Well, good night, Miss Erie," he said. "I'll be up again soon, with some books for you." Harry lifted the little tin box to his knees and opened it. From it he brought forth a conglomeration of articles. There were queer little disks of hammered brass and copper, an egg-shaped object that sparkled like crystal in the lamplight, a crotch-shaped branch of a tree. As he handled those objects tenderly the old man's face was tense and he mumbled something entirely meaningless to the watchers. Finally, with an exclamation of triumph, he brought forth a piece of metal the size and shape of an ordinary lead pencil..