"I s'pose this feller an' ol' Spotba'll fight to a finish," said Billy, "but I aim to keep one snake of each kind, so let 'em scrap it out. It won't hurt that old womper to get a good drubbin' anyway."
He held the newly captured snake along his arm, its head resting in the palm of his hand. The dim light was sufficiently strong for Maurice to note the cold gleam in its eyes, and he shuddered. "Some day you'll try your monkey-shines on a puff-adder er a black-snake," he prophesied, "an' then you'll wish you hadn't gone clean crazy."
Billy grinned and dropped the snake into his jacket pocket. "I brought your Ma's groceries," he said. "Is she in the house?"
"Yep; she's cannin' thimble-berries. Jest wait till I get an armful of kindlin', an' I'll go in with you."
Billy put the basket down again. "Say, what did she want with all that hoarhound candy?" he asked curiously.
Maurice chuckled. "Why, Missis Spencer told her what great stuff it was to use in doin' up thimble-berries; sorta takes the flat taste off 'em. So Ma, she's goin' to try it."
Billy whistled. "But fifty sticks, Maurice! It's almost more'n she'll need, don't you think?"
"'Course it's a lot too much. S'pose we try on' get hold of some of it, Bill?"
"Suits me," agreed Billy, "but jest how? That's the question."
Maurice stooped and filled his arms with a load of kindling. "I dunno how," he replied, "but you usually find out a way fer everythin'. What's the matter with you lettin' on you lost part of that candy?"