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"Who said that?" shouted Mr Lawrence, with the blood red in his face. "Walter Watland." In silence they made their way across the clearing to the road. "Say, Bill," said Maurice, as they paused to rest on the top rail of the fence, "do you 'spose we best tell our dads about seein' them men?".

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"Where the dickens are my pants?" he whispered. "See anythin' of 'em, Bill?" "On the money earned by the carriage of cargo, sir." "Come here, you," spoke a low voice as Croaker settled on the other side of the wood pile, and the crow promptly perched himself on Billy's shoulder with a succession of throaty notes that sounded like crazy laughter, but which were really expressions of unadulterated joy. For this boy who had taken him from the nest in the swaying elm when he was nothing but a half-feathered, wide-mouthed fledgling, and had fed him, cared for him, defended him against cat, dog, rooster and human beings—for this boy alone Croaker felt all the love his selfish heart was capable of giving. "Secret instructions to be read to the officers and crew of the above said Minorca by Mr Lawrence whenever the ship shall have arrived at twenty degrees of north latitude, and about thirty degrees of west longitude.".