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Bess arrived at last. A gorgeous affair was her chariot, the foundation being Mr. Prettyman’s spring wagon. Bess, with some borrowings, Charley’s help, and her own quick invention, had made a very good imitation of a circus wagon. Charley, the Strong Man, held the reins over old Dom Pedro, the horse she loved, that had once been a racer. She had discovered some very real looking, jointed snakes that wriggled and curved in a manner startlingly serpentine; while tremendous boa constrictors, cut from old circus posters, were disposed about the cage in alarmingly lifelike positions. “Jist hold on there, Mose, we wanter play a game of checkers on yer pants.” At this jibe Moses turned and held up a clenched fist as warning of a potential thrashing which the boys knew would never materialize. Moses was slow to active wrath. A period of silence followed excepting for the slight sounds made by the workers, the drowsy humming of flies, the murmur of an occasional bee and the faint rustlings of the tall stalks of corn..

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“It was all splendid; and, Billy, I never dreamed it was in you! Sister’s operetta would have been a failure if it hadn’t been for you.” “What happened to you, Billy?” she asked when he entered the kitchen. “For a second I was frightened when I went to wake you and found you gone.” “I reckon Joner hadn’t any too much light,” opined Mrs. Wopp. “Take her in,” Billy gasped. “They stole her; they’re after—save her—hurry—” He could say no more, but suddenly collapsed and sank to the ground; and the last sight he remembered was the dark Italian at the house corner, talking fast, with one hand in a sling, the other waving a knife threateningly..