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"But this beggar is coiled," cried his friend. "If he strikes you, he'll rip you wide open with his horny nose. Don't go, Bill." "Faith," cried Harry, "ut's divil a bit I know concernin' that man Trigger Finger, but ut's small reward they'd be gettin' fer their pains if they tied me up and tried torture, an' I'll be tellin' ye fer why, byes. The stuff's gone back to Spencer. Load ut I did meself on Joe Scraff's buckboard, not more than an hour agone. The box wid the black fox skins an' two big jugs av whisky. Back I sent ut all, byes, wid the compliments av the both av ye an' me poor self. But now it'll be there, and the heart av ould Caleb'll be beatin' two skips fer one wid jye at recoverin' all av his stolen possessions. I did right, I hope now, in sindin' ut along back?" he finished. "Then I'll be tellin' ye where I do be gettin' the whisky, Billy; where else but in the ha'nted house.".

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Mr. Johnston frowned darkly. "Walter Watland—what?" he repeated. Or again it will be a smuggling lugger chased by a Revenue cutter with a flash of the sea-snow at her stem and the blaze of a long gun on the forecastle. "Your name's Scroggie, ain't it?" Billy asked. Mrs. Wilson stood, the picture of amazement. "Have you gone stark and ravin' crazy, Anson?" she asked sternly. Then, anger mastering her, she reached for the broom standing in the corner. Anson promptly made his escape, but as he passed the open window, he gazed wildly in at his mother and cried again: "Don't you have nuthin' to do with that gold, Ma. If you do we'll all get burnt up in our beds, er get clawed to tatters!".