"Well, s'pose it wasn't any dream? S'pose it was all real? An' s'pose, if I hadn't waked up in time to stop him, he'd have picked your eyes out an' put in fisheyes in their place? Then you couldn't see anythin' unless you was under water. An' s'pose, when I asked Croaker what he wanted to do that awful thing fer, he up an' told me that you'd been spyin' on me an' you didn't deserve to own human eyes? I say s'pose all this. Now then, Anse, you best mind your own business an' let your mouth freeze up close, else you're goin' to have an awful time of it. If I get Croaker to say he won't gouge your eyes out till I give the word it's more'n you deserve."
Hope stirred in Anson's fear ridden soul—hope which Billy remorselessly killed with his next words.
"But I couldn't get no promise out o' Ringdo. He says you're workin' 'gainst us."
"But I ain't, Bill. Cross my heart, I ain't," protested Anson. "Why should I be?"
"Maybe jest 'cause you're a sneak," Billy answered, "but you're my brother an' I don't want anythin' horrible to happen to you if I kin help it. The best thing fer you to do is keep mum, an' when you see me strikin' off anywhere look t'other way."
"An' you'll see that Ringdo don't bite me, Bill?" pleaded Anson. "You'll keep him off me, won't you?"
Billy considered. "I'll try," he promised, "but it's goin' to take a whole lot of coaxin' to do it. That old witchcoon has been prowlin' down through the tamarack swale huntin' copperhead snakes for a week now, gettin' ready to do fer somebody er other."
"Oh gollies!" gasped Anson. "What's he huntin' copperheads fer, Bill?"
"Why to poison his teeth with. He's loadin' up fer somebody, sure as shootin'. Gosh! I am sorry you've been sech a fool, Anse. Jest think, one little scratch from that coon's teeth and—'
"Bill," Anson's voice was husky with terror. "You won't let him touch me, will you, Bill?"