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Keeler roused himself from his abstraction and resumed: "Right next to the Stanhope farm there stood about a thousand acres of the purtiest hardwoods you ever clap't an eye on, sir. An ol' hermit of a drunken Scotchman, Scroggie by name, owned that land. He lived in a dirty little cabin an' was so mean even the mice was scared to eat the food he scrimped himself on. He had money too, lots an' lots of gold money. I've seen it myself. He kept it hid somewhere.,

"That night I took them weasels over to Scraff's an' turned 'em loose under his barn. I knowed mighty well ma weasel would stay where it was dark an' safe and the chicken smell was so strong. Couple of days after that Scraff come over to our place to borrow some rat traps. His face was so long he was fair steppin' on his lower lip. He said weasels had been slaughterin' his Leghorns, right an' left; six first night an' nine the next.,

Billy considered. "I ain't sayin' jest what I'll do," he spoke finally. "I gotta ask another person's advice on this thing. But if I do take it you, Jim, an' you, Maurice, are goin' to be my partners in Lost Man same's you are in bay Thomas. Here, Maurice, you take Thomas to our stable an' give him a feed. I gotta go somewhere else." And leaving Jim and Maurice sitting, open-mouthed, Billy ducked into the timber.,

Meanwhile, Mr Lawrence walked towards his ship. He should have been on the whole well satisfied with his meeting with Mr Greyquill. Perhaps the profound indifference which in reality possessed him as to the old scrivener's willingness to accept twenty-five guineas, or, in short, anything as an instalment, was because he had long felt that the old man never durst take extreme action. Greyquill knew that Mr Lawrence was very popular in his own particular way in Old Harbour Town and the neighbourhood. He drank and treated, and in a high degree possessed the liberality of the sailor. The townspeople were proud of him, not only because he was a handsome and finely built man, but because he had shone in many deeds of gallantry whilst in the Navy, and everybody was agreed that when Mr Lawrence was court-martialled the Service lost as fine and plucky a seaman as was ever afloat, and one to be recalled to his duties with apologies and without delay.

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All eyes switched from the teacher to Fatty Watland. Fatty, his face very red, rose slowly and stood before the frowning Mr. Johnston.,

Hope stirred in Anson's fear ridden soul—hope which Billy remorselessly killed with his next words.,

"That's Anson's coat all right," she affirmed. "Now twist about so's I kin see them hip pockets in the pants.",

"Know him?"