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CHAPTER XXVI A GOLDEN WEDDING GIFT,"'No ghost kin harm where lies this charm,'" chuckled Maurice.,At last, sick and dizzy, he turned from the place and with raft and pole fought his way back to the shore. Never again, he told himself, would he try to fathom further what lay in Lost Man's Swamp. Weary and perspiring, he climbed the wooded upland. He turned and dipped into the willows, intending to take the shortest way home through the hardwoods. On top of the beech knoll he paused for a moment to let his eyes rest on the big house in the walnut grove. In some vague way his mind connected its owner with that dead waste of stinking marsh. Why, he wondered, had Hinter chosen this lonely spot on which to build his home? As he turned to strike across the neck of woods between him and the causeway the man about whom he had just been thinking stepped out from a clump of hazel-nut bushes directly in his path.,He smiled and held out his hand. The other man took it dazedly, then slowly and with head lifted towards the darkening skies, he passed down the road.,"'All right,' says I, and he put a silver dollar in me fist and wint away wid his companion.,Billy nodded. "That's what Trigger Finger 'ud do," he said, "an' Trigger Finger, he was always right, Pa.",The boys wriggled their way through the thicket of sumach, and reached a clump of golden-rod inside the road fence just as Wilson came out of the lane.,"Sure. Now shut up an' let's get home. I expect Ma'll be waitin' up to give me hail Columbia, an' I guess you won't be gettin' any pettin' from yourn, either.",Not until he had put some distance between himself and hia friends did he remember that he had not told them the great and wonderful news that had been imparted to him by old Harry. Well, never mind, they would hear it soon. Harry would see to that. He turned into a path that strayed far up among clumps of red-gold maples and ochre-stained oaks. The whistle of quail sounded from a ridge of brown sumachs. Up the hill, across the deep valley, where wintergreen berries gleamed like drops of blood among the mosses, he passed slowly and on to the beech-crowned ridge.,Billy braced himself. At the same time he caught a glimpse of Anson's leering face and inwardly vowed that that young man should have plenty of reason to regret that leer.,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.,"That new boy; his name's Jim Scroggie. His dad's rented the Stanley house on the hill.".