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The old man laughed softly. "Wull they now? Well I guess they won't neither. It's hide ut in a new place I did, meself. They'll have a lot av trouble afindin' ut, too." "Well said, Miss, well said!" cried Miss Proudfoot, who was a very good hand at whist and very quarrelsome over the game. "All set," cried Stanhope. "Leave your belt loose so I can hang to it and I'm with you. That's right. Who were they, Billy?".
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Conrad
Captain Acton started from a reverie and looked at her attentively. "No," said Billy, with finality. On the top-most branch of a tall, dead pine, close beside the wood-pile, sat the tame crow, Croaker, his head cocked demurely on one side, as he listened to the woman's righteous abuse. Croaker could no more help filling his claws with chips and dirt and wobbling the full length of a line filled with snowy, newly-washed clothes than he could help upsetting the pan of water in the chicken-pen, when he saw the opportunity. He hated anything white with all his sinful little heart and he hated the game rooster in the same way. He was always in trouble with Ma Wilson, always in trouble with the rooster. Only when safe in the highest branch of the pine was he secure, and in a position to talk back to his persecutors. "Tom said he'd think it over an' let him know. I guess he was pretty short with Scroggie, knowin' as he does that the woods an' land rightly belong to young Stanhope.".
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