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"You bet," Maurice managed to answer. Billy glanced at him quickly, a troubled look in his eyes. "N-no," he said, "you bet I don't." Stanhope sank back on his box, his relaxed nerves throbbing and his lips forming the words: "Thank God!".
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He waited for an hour but Anson did not come. How was he to know that Billy had undergone a change of heart? Had he not caught the cold glint in Billy's eyes, when he had sneered at him in the class? Previous experiences had taught him caution. He had watched his brother go out behind the wood-pile and had promptly made tracks in the opposite direction. A long time Wilson stood pondering. When at length he bestirred himself a full moon swam above a transfigured world. A silvery sheen swept softly the open spaces; through the trees the white bay-waters shimmered; the clearing fires had receded to mere sparks with silvery smoke trails stretching straight up towards a starred infinity. Billy's gaze followed hers. High above the trees a black speck came speeding toward them, a speck which grew quickly into a bird, a big, black bird, who knew, apparently, just where he was going. Maurice gave the tired horse a feed of oats, tossed a bundle of timothy into the manger, slapped the bay flank once again and went up the path to his breakfast..
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