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Mr. Johnston smiled darkly and nodded. "As I thought. The one who did it is too much of a coward to confess it," he grated, his voice shaking. "Well, there remains but one thing to do. If the guilty party is to be punished, I must punish you one and all.",

It was broad daylight when Anson, in response to an angry call from the bottom of the stairway, sat up in bed. Vaguely he realized that in some dire way this glad morning proclaimed a day of doom, but his drowsy senses were still leaping vast chasms of dreamland—striving to slip from the control of saner reasoning and drift away with a happy abandon of dire results to follow. What boy has not had the same experience, even although he knew that a razor-strop, wielded by a vigorous hand, would in all probability accomplish quickly what his drowsy will had failed to accomplish? Anson was just dropping off into the lulling arms of Morpheus when that extra sense, possessed by all boys in a measure and by certain boys in particular, warned him back to wakefulness and a realization of his danger.,

When she had drunk her full of the fine wide scene of sea and sky and milk-bright schooner in the midst, with never a break the clear horizon round save the Louisa Ann that was fast fading, Lucy went below, followed by her father, who kissed her again and again in a transport of delight at having recovered her, and in being able once more to hold his adored child to his heart, and before she entered her berth to lie down and rest, he said to her: "I am so overjoyed, my darling, in having recovered you that I take no interest in the Minorca. Mr Lawrence may do with her what he pleases—I have you.",

"Why I read it in Anson's book, 'Trigger-Finger Tim er Dead er Alive.' Oh, it's all hunky, I tell you."

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Harry held his breath and watched him, fascinated, as he proceeded to trace the ring.,

Anson shuddered. "Aw, who's goin' to peep?' he returned.,

As he climbed the rail fence his eyes swept the Settlement below, resting at length on the jail-like wall in the edge of the Scroggie timber, above which the tall derrick protruded like a white, scarred face. "Humph!" he mused, "Scroggie and Hinter must either have struck water, or give up. Their rig's quiet after chuggin' away day and night for weeks.",

"You black, thievin' passel of impudence, you!" she was saying. "If I had a stick long enough to reach you, you'd never dirty any more of my new-washed clothes."