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It is ten days later,—ten dreary, interminable days, that have struggled into light, and sunk back again into darkness, leaving no trace worthy of remembrance in their train. "Swift as swallows' wings" they have flown, scarce breaking the air in their flight, so silently, so evenly they have departed, as days will, when dull monotony marks them for its own.,"Do get on, Miss Pat," urged Judith, folding her napkin. "I've got to get to school sometime this morning, you know.","Who?",“Mebbe she’s all right,” admitted the boy.,Judith's dismayed exclamation cut short her account of the activities at Greycroft.,"No," answered Billy, promptly, "not even Teacher Stanhope.",He winced with pain, reeled, and would have fallen but for the other’s sustaining hand.,"And did he shoot your quail?" asked Scroggie.,Disregarding the question, Billy continued: "The tracks led us a long ways, I kin tell you. We got up into the Scroggie bush at last an' then the rain come.","Who can it be?" asked the young man. "Who camps there alone, far from friends?","When did you find it?",Billy put the basket down again. "Say, what did she want with all that hoarhound candy?" he asked curiously..