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They crossed the sunflecked grass, hand in hand. As they reached the pine grove the girl pointed away above the trees. "Look," she whispered. Billy shook his fist at the crow. "You old beggar," he said fondly, "if that rooster was wise he'd go out with the rest of the chickens an' scratch his breakfast, 'stead o' quarrelin' with you. He don't know that you're doin' your best to starve him to death." "That's all. Jest Walter Watland.".

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Harry glanced behind him with a shudder. "God love you fer a good lad, Billy," he cried; "but this is no way to trate an ould frind, is ut now?" "No, but there's somethin' I ought'a tell you, I guess," he answered. "I've jest come from old Swanson's boardin' house, at the foot. Mr. Maddoc an' the specialist doctor are goin' to leave there an' stay at teacher's, as you likely know?" A little further on Billy came face to face with Hinter. "How are you, Billy?" spoke the man, pleasantly. "Still driving the cows down to the lake for water, I see." They gently rolled the dead, or dying, man on to his back, and the nature of his injury appeared. He was clothed in white trousers, a light blue coat, and a shirt the front of which was ornamented by some light tracing like flowers. He was without a cravat, and his head was uncovered. The left side of his shirt was soaked in blood, and the singed hole through which the bullet had passed from the weapon whose muzzle he had pressed to his breast, was visible in the thick of the dark crimson dye. His face was marble-white. It wore an expression of torture. His lips were parted and grey. The eyelids were half-closed, and the whites of the eye only were visible..