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"Oh, gee whitticker! nobody 'ud believe that, Bill.",

"Ay, that must be," exclaimed the Admiral, "even though Heaven should rain French men-of-war.",

It was, perhaps, just as well for Anson that he kept out of Billy's way during this period. However very little that Billy did was missed by his pale blue eyes. He knew that his step-brother had visited the haunted house alone and had searched it nook and corner. For what? He had seen him fasten his rabbit-foot to a branch of a tree and dig, and dig. For what? He wanted to find out but dared not ask. Perhaps Billy was going crazy! He acted like it. Anson made up his mind that he would confide his suspicions in his mother. But on the very day that he had decided to pour into Mrs. Wilson's ear all the strange goings-on of his brother, Billy caught him out on a forest-path alone and, gripping him by the shoulder, threatened to conjure up by means of witchcraft at his command a seven-headed dragon with cat-fish hooks for claws who would rip his—Anson's—soul to shreds if he so much as breathed to his mother one word of what he had seen.,

With a sigh, Billy slid from the stump and stood looking away toward the east. What would Trigger Finger Tim do in his place? When confronted by insurmountable obstacles Trigger Finger had been wont to seek excitement and danger. That's what he, Billy, would do now. But where was excitement and danger to be found? Ah, he knew—Lost Man's Swamp!

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"That will be giving the Minorca long odds, won't it?" said Captain Acton.,

"Sick? Where's he sick?" Mrs. Keeler lifted the basket to the table and coming back to Maurice, put a berry-stained finger under his chin. "Stick out your tongue!" she commanded. "Billy, you fetch that lamp over here.",

Hinter's eyes fell away from that steady gaze. Billy turned towards the log-span across the creek, then paused to ask suddenly: "Mr. Hinter, who owns that Lost Man's Swamp? Do you?",

Scarcely had the ball of satin-white smoke, belched from the cannon's mouth, been shredded by the wind and carried low over the heads of the breaking seas in rags and lengths like pieces of a torn silk veil, when the helm of the barque was put down, stun-sail halliards were let go, all in such a hurry that the sails fouled the booms and yard-arms, and painted a scene of confusion aloft, that might have stood as a perfect picture of panic[Pg 432] at sea; the yards on the main were laboriously hauled around and the main topsail backed and the barque was at rest, rolling and tumbling very uncomfortably with a great deal of flying and flapping aloft, one man at the wheel, two men standing close beside him in a posture of waiting, and the fore-part of the bulwarks from the gangway to the fore-rigging lined with the heads of the crew.