Billy stood frowning. "Say, maybe Jacobs is the feller that fires the boilers that runs the windlass," he hazarded.,
Mrs. Wilson turned to the door, wiped her red face on her apron, and finished emptying a pan of hot cookies into the stone crock, before answering, sternly:,
Billy's hand went down into his trouser's pocket. "Look," he comforted, "I've got my rabbit-foot charm, an' I'm goin' to draw a magic circle 'round the stump you're settin' on. No snakes, owl, ner even old Scroggie's ghost kin get inside that circle.".
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