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"There was three voices," whispered Scraff. "They seemed to be scattered among the trees. It's black magic, that's what it is—or old Scroggie's ghost," he finished with a shudder. When Billy reached the loft, Anson was standing in the center of the room, smashing with clenched fists at the empty air. Billy sat down on his bed and grinned. "You will run straight into trouble, in spite of all I say, Anse," he said gently. "It's all your own fault; you will be a tattle-tale." Maurice shook his head. "It's maybe a cow!" he guessed hopefully..
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Conrad
"What dye you want, boy?" Shipley's pipe was alight now and he peered down at Billy through the pungent smoke-wreaths. "Or a fist in the daylight," grinned Maurice. "Well, never mind, Anse," he said consolingly, "you've got one good eye left, but somethin' tells me you won't have it long." "Well, and what do you think of the accommodation offered by the Minorca?" So here lay the reason that the swamp-waters never froze even when winter locked all other waters fast in its icy clutch! What caused those air bubbles, if air bubbles they were?.
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