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In answer to his wife’s reproof, Mr. Wopp almost roared, “Where’s the hammer? Gone hide an’ hair it is, like everythink else.” They came to the crest of the gorge. “We’ll have to slow up and zig-zag down carefully or they’ll hear us an’ get away,” Billy suggested. “Now Mis’ Stephens, call the boys,” requested Mrs. Wopp who was the busiest of the group..

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“Why not arsk Geordie Hodgekiss. He’s sich a grand feller fer helpin’ at dances, an’ his voice ’ud most wake the dead. I feel shore he’d hev the good o’ the quilt at heart.” Mrs. Wopp’s voice, a dramatic outburst before which almost any cloud would have quailed, filled the bedroom. Betty turned to Nell Gordon, “I hope all yer clouds’ll hev silver linin’s, Miss Gordon,” she smiled. “Would you like to live in the city?” In spite of the grave situation, the officer smiled at Billy’s entreating words, remembered suddenly the danger from both fire and possible lurking desperadoes. “All right. Get behind that tree, and stay out of the reach of stray shot.”.