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And now, after days of loneliness and nights of terror, Maurice was up again and outside where he could catch the wood-breeze and smell the sweet odor of plants and clearing fires. He wondered how many years he had been away from it all. How old was he now? Why didn't his mother answer his questions? He did not realize that his voice was weak; he had forgotten that his mother was deaf. All he knew was that nobody cared a hang for him any more, not even his own mother. His weak hands clutched at the bandage at his throat, as though to tear it off and hurl it from him. His head sank weakly back against the wall, and the tears came to his eyes. "Then I'll be tellin' ye where I do be gettin' the whisky, Billy; where else but in the ha'nted house." Back in the schoolyard a real old fashioned indignation meeting was being held by thirty lusty boys and girls. That any man, teacher or no teacher, should come into their beloved Settlement and announce that he had no use for it or its people and go on his way unscathed was beyond all understanding. Something would have to be done about it; but what? It was Billy who climbed up on the school fence, called order and offered the one sure solution to the problem..

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"Fish ought'a bite fine today," said Maurice as he stowed the cookies away in his bosom. "Ay, your honour," answered the fellow with a grin decidedly above a clown's intelligence. "Oh gollies!" gasped Anson. "What's he huntin' copperheads fer, Bill?" "Then why don't you get rid of 'em?".