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October's second morning dawned sullen and grey, with a chill wind banking slate-hued clouds in the sky. Deacon Ringold, taking the short cut across the stubble-fields to Wilson's, shivered as he glanced back at the black lines his feet had cut through the crisp white frost, and decided to put on his woolen underclothes right away. The deacon had important and disturbing news to convey to his neighbor and had started out early to seek his counsel.,"It ought'a be dark," protested Billy, "but I'll try it anyway." He lifted the rabbit foot to his face and breathed some words upon it. Then in measured tones he recited:,"Only one thing to do," reasoned Billy, "take what we want an' let the rest go.","So, my dear, you see that your mother was right in putting faith in her quotation, 'Most women have no characters at all.'","Why?" asked Mrs. Wilson, in surprise.,"Lucy told me at breakfast this morning that on going to bed last night she noticed a faint tinge in the air as of the rising moon[Pg 5] away to the eastward. 'Twas the burning wreck, I presume?",Billy's mind worked with lightning speed.,"Billy," she half-whispered, then hiding her flushed face in her hands she turned and ran from him.,"He says, if you don't mind, to come about ten or 'leven o'clock," said Billy.,He sat down, looking very weary.,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.,A gleam of satisfaction lit Anson's shifty eyes. "All right," he said shortly, and went off after the herd..