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"Nice boys don't fight." Billy shifted his feet uneasily, the movement bringing him a step or two closer to the other. "That's Anson's coat all right," she affirmed. "Now twist about so's I kin see them hip pockets in the pants." "Begobs, so I've heard before." Harry scratched his head reflectively..
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Conrad
Croaker, mincing in and out among the rag-weeds, led straight across the yard to a tiny ramshackle building which at one time might have been a root-house. Billy, feeling that at any moment an icy hand might reach out and grip his windpipe, followed. It was a terrible risk he was running but the prize was worth it. His feet seemed weighted with lead. At last he reached the root-house and leaned against it, dizzy and panting. Then he looked about for Croaker. The crow had vanished! "Look here, Bill," cried Maurice. "You don't want'a hurt Teacher Stanhope's feelin's, do you!" "Well, there was a tree standin' jest outside his winder same as that tree stands outside this one. It climbed that tree and jumped through the mosquito nettin' plumb onto ol' Harry. He was able to tell the doctor that much afore he caved under." "Bet ye I am.".
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