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Max was the first to be quite ready with his exhibit. It was a queer creature that one gradually discovered to be some sort of a bird; though such a one had never before been seen on land or sea. Max had arrayed his mother’s big white gander for the occasion. A turkey-tail fan made a huge breastplate, if one can imagine a breastplate of feathers. All the long-tailed roosters that had been killed in town for months, one would guess, had contributed to the coat of sprawling feathers that was tied over the body of the bird. And no one knew by what magic the boy had coaxed some one to lend him the magnificent peacock plumes that rose high above the little wiggling goose tail. “Why, Buzz Lancaster, how did you get here?” Edith went back and steadied him over the uneven ground. “Phew! He smells of gasoline! Where has he been, do you suppose, mother?” A shiver chased up and down Billy’s spine. He knew the Sheriff by sight only; and he was so inseparable from the handcuffs the boy had seen protruding from a pocket, that Billy felt it would “almost fasten suspicion on a fellow just to be seen speaking to the officer.”.

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Dim religious lights from stained glass windows shone through the church and falling on the boy chilled him to the marrow. “‘Place there the boy,’ the tyrant said “I’ll not make a noise, and I’ll—I’ll try not to cry; but I’m afraid I’ll ha-have t-to,” she faltered, struggling to hide her eyes that grew moist in spite of herself. “I must of looked like that Lize or the picter couldn’t of been took.” Ruefully he rubbed his bald crown..