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As ordered two of the posse were closing in from the west toward the rendezvous. A few more steps and the four met. Those who had been ordered to beat the mountain about the spring were waiting below; the fire had perfectly policed that territory.,“He’s jist the plainest gorl-darndest dorg in the worl’, but me an’ Betty thinks heaps of him, an’ Job’s lorst one eye but he’s a dandy live feather duster orl right.” Gestures and grins illuminated this earnest speech.,“I’ll take all the blame Mosey.”,Mrs. Wopp was an incurable optimist, although the citadel of her optimism was being assailed. Turning her wrathful gaze from Moses, her eye lighted on the soiled pink hat and antimacassar still worn by Job. She burst into a hearty laugh and turned to Betty.,“Run, Billy! You left the door open—she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss.,“And just worships you. Is your lawn mowed?”,“Naw Nosey,” he retorted, “there ain’t no bun to break in two, the dorg is outside the bun already.”,It was not the hour for ghosts, they must be real people. Billy encouraged himself with that thought and wished he could wait for further disclosures. Did the sun ever before go down so fast? He hastened to find his wheel and can, and set out at his best pace.,Jimmy’s face lost its scorn. Someway the sting of his sarcasm never seemed to touch Billy, who could always strike back a surer if less venomous blow. Perhaps that was the very reason why Jimmy, though larger and older, sought Billy and heeded him as he did no other save his own stern father.,Mrs. Wopp was much too energetically engaged to enter into fuller argument. She busied herself preparing the tubs for rinsing, singing in a high tremolo, “Shall we gather at the river?”,The first sign of return to health was indicated by a slight querulousness that invalids seem to claim as their prerogative. The convalescent wanted books and pictures, her discarded favorite, Hannah, stiff with long neglect, and her pets individually and collectively. Then having run the gamut of dumb playmates, she called for her beloved friends.,The strains of “Red Wing” having died away, Mrs. Wopp busied herself setting up the crokinole board. “Me and Par won’t play, jist the young folks,” she announced..