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For Billy, who knew and understood so well the sweeping wilderness of silence and mysteries, this swamp held a dread which, try as he might, he could not analyze. On one other occasion had he striven to penetrate it, but as if the bogland recognized in him a force not easily set aside, it had enwrapped him with its deadly mists which chilled and weakened, torn his flesh with its razor-edged grass and sucked at his feet with its oozy, dragging quicksands. He had turned back in time. For two weeks following his exploit he had lain ill with ague, shivering miserably, silent, but thinking.,"That new boy; his name's Jim Scroggie. His dad's rented the Stanley house on the hill.","On a golden, Indian summer day like this," she finished and closed her eyes as his arms went about her.,Maurice drew her outside and closed the door. "Come over behind the woodpile, Ma, an' I'll tell you," he answered cautiously.,"Yep," Billy admitted, slowly, "that's it. He's all right in lots of ways, but in other ways——","Hoist the ensign!" exclaimed Mr Lawrence.,Billy tried further inducements. "I'll give you my new red tie an' celluloid collar," he offered.,"Jacobs," he said, crisply, "I'll give you twenty-four hours in which to lose yourself. You can't stay here.",Maurice let his kindling fall. "Gee!" he exclaimed, "I've got a piece of Injun turnip in my pocket right now. Ain't that lucky!","Well, what do you think they stand fer?","Who d'ye think's aboard?",Anson started to whimper. "I do have bad dreams," he confessed miserably, "but pie an' tarts ain't to blame fer it.".