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Mrs. Wilson turned to the door, wiped her red face on her apron, and finished emptying a pan of hot cookies into the stone crock, before answering, sternly: "What are you going to do?" asked Stanhope. "It's Jacobs. Listen, Pa, I'll tell you how I know. Anse, you remember, was sort of helper with them drillers till he got askin' too many questions an' they fired him. Well, all he asked 'em, I put him up to ask. Anse was always a mighty good listener an' he often heard these two, Jack and Tom, speak of Jacobs an' call him boss. An' one day when Hinter comes over, Anse heard one of 'em call him Jacobs, an' Hinter was awful mad about it.".
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"He'll never find the Scroggie will," he would speak again. "He'll always be poor." "Croaker brought you that?" he gasped. "Well, I'll be shot!" Billy stood up and gazed about him. "Where's Croaker now?" he asked. "Why to be sure," rejoined her neighbor, "come right along in an' I'll get 'em. I want you to see how nice my canned tomaters look." As they turned towards the house, Mrs. Wilson caught sight of Maurice, huddled in the big chair beneath the trailing vine. "Oh gollies!" gasped Anson. "What's he huntin' copperheads fer, Bill?".
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