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!",
"Well, what of it? Maurice found him a soft hidin' place and good pasture on his Dad's farm, didn't he?",
A gleam of satisfaction lit Anson's shifty eyes. "All right," he said shortly, and went off after the herd..
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