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They passed on in silence until the hardwood grove came in sight. Here Billy paused. "You go on, Anse," he said. "I'm goin' over to the menagerie fer a look over things. An' see here." He grabbed his brother's shoulder and swung him about. "I'm goin' to tell you something an' if you so much as peep it to Ma I'm goin' to pass the word to Ringdo an Croaker that they're free to do what they like to you; see?",

The twilight shadows were beginning to steal across the glade; the golden-rod of the uplands massed into indistinguishable clumps. The silence of eventide fell soft and sweet and songless—that breathless space between the forest day and darkness.,

Billy gazed at him wonderingly. "How did you know I was thinkin' of him?" he asked.,

Mr Lawrence repeated his first question.

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The breeze blew bright and warm, and sang sweetly aloft. The brilliant horizon ahead slided up and down past the prismatic edges of the clear and shapely sails which yearned in steady breasts from mast-head to jibboom and bowsprit ends; the parted water rolled past in wool-white lines of yeast; the heavens were alive with the clouds of the air. Nothing was in sight but Nelson's Fleet, fading.,

"For my part," said Captain Acton, "I don't want to sit down to a better banquet than a piece of really good ship's pickled beef finely grained, and cutting delicately and well fatted, and a crisp ship's biscuit, and you may add a drop of real old Jamaica. I have dined more heartily off such a dish than at many a dinner ashore of ten or twelve courses.",

Billy turned and came back slowly to where he sat. "Anse," he said. "I ain't wantin' to see you witch-chased, so I'll jest give you the tie an' collar an' say not a word to Croaker er Ringdo; an' if you'll tell me somethin' I want'a know I'll let you sleep with my rabbit-foot charm underneath your piller.",

Lost Man's Swamp, so called because it was said that one straying into its depths never was able to extricate himself from its overpowering mists and treacherous quicksands, was lonely and forsaken. It lay like a festering sore on the breast of the world—black, menacing, hungry to gulp, dumb as to those mysteries and tragedies it had witnessed. It was whispered that the devil made his home in its pitchy ponds, which even in the fiercest cold of winter did not freeze.