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Billy placed the lamp on a chair and reaching over shook Anson's long, regular snore into fragments of little gasps. He shook harder and Anson sat up, sandy hair rumpled and pale blue eyes blinking in the light. "No," said Billy, with finality. Billy promptly scented a new danger to his plans. "If I was you I wouldn't do that, Anse," he advised..

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"His Ma wouldn't let him come. Afraid he'd get wet an' go sick ag'in. Gee! that coffee smells good, Erie." "Listen to me!" Anson cried. "He made all the trouble, I tell you. All I did was tell him not to throw clubs at Ringdo—" "A pity!" said the Admiral, striking the ground with his staff. "Otherwise I would[Pg 178] have posted it, caught him, and asked him his reason, which to satisfy me would have to prove infinitely more intelligible than the one Captain Weaver has repeated." Billy grinned a wan grin and pressed his knuckles against his aching eyes. "So's my milk-snake," he said. "Guess I spilled him out o' my pocket when I fell. Gee! that was a close call. Say, Maurice, ain't it queer though? I was feelin' mighty scared an' trembly afore that bolt fell, but now I feel nervy enough to tackle any ghost. How 'bout you?".