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Billy turned slowly, his fingers fumbling with his cotton braces. He looked at the noxious dose in the tumbler, then at his mother's face. "All right," he said gently, "I'll take 'em, Ma; give 'em here." "He's afeerd they'll make his hogs sick most like," sneered Sward. A moment later the "swowee" of the cutting wings sounded, close in, and the old gun spoke twice..

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"It is Lucy!" he said, in a voice in which[Pg 355] awe and amazement were so mingled that one should say the apparition of a ghost, of something spiritual and fearful to the observer, could not have filled the hollow of his mouth with that tone. He was a figure striking in its way as he made these bows, with his long, snow-white hair, his heavy white eyebrows, his long curling nose, the purely congenital satiric leer that characterised the formation of his thin lips; and his faded dress, which was a very good representation of his mind, aided the impression produced by his face. Billy puckered up his lips, but his effort was a failure. "You try, Maurice," he said, "I can't jest keep the hole in my mouth steady long enough t' whistle." Billy grinned. He had caught the gasp at the end of the speaker's words; now he knew where lay the stranger's weak spot—his wind!.