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"Had your supper, Pa?" she asked.,Billy puckered up his lips, but his effort was a failure. "You try, Maurice," he said, "I can't jest keep the hole in my mouth steady long enough t' whistle.","Your property must be recovered. My son must take the consequences of his acts. I know what it means, sir—the gibbet and chains—for thus they serve the pirate," exclaimed the poor old Admiral, grim and desperate.,"Faith, an' that I'll do," cried O'Dule. "Lilt him a chune I wull that'll make his laggin' feet dance, and his laggin' spirit look up above the slough av despond.","There it is!" said Miss Acton. "Give me a sea as smooth as our lawn, and I will accompany you, my dear.",Billy had heard and understood. When his dad sent him one of those "up and away" signals he never questioned its significance. He didn't like listening in secret, but surely he reasoned, a boy had a right to know just what was coming to him. And he knew what was coming to him, all right—a caning from the supple hickory ramrod—maybe!,CHAPTER XVIII THE METTLE OF THE BREED,At the door he paused and turned toward Harry. "Where's Gibson's Grove?" he asked.,Billy spent the days preceding the reopening of the Valley School much as a criminal awaiting execution might spend his last hours of life. The fact that Trigger Finger Tim had always accepted the inevitable sentence of fate with calm and undaunted spirit was the one buoy to which he might cling in a turbulent sea of uncertainty. There had been so much to do; so little had been done. The hiding place of old Scroggie's will was still a secret; no check had been put upon the preparations of the interloper who claimed to be the heir of the Scroggie estate; the mystery surrounding the store robbery remained a mystery; his friend Frank Stanhope was growing thin and pale from secret suffering. And on Monday morning the Valley School would open!,"It's born under a caul was I," he told them. "An' minny a mystery has been cleared up in ould Ireland be meself, I'm tellin' ye.","I think so—I hope so. I am very well disposed towards that scheme I have put into being—the construction of a sick-bay.[Pg 150] Every ship should have a sick-bay. You must agree with me, sir.",Greyquill, who saw little to fear in the pursuit of a man with a wooden leg, turned his head upon his shoulder and cried back: "There are too many of us.".