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"He's movin' a saw-mill up into the big woods," thought Billy. "But where in the world did it come from!" he pondered as he looked after the creaking loads. "Take meself," he went on, drawing his stool closer to the chairs of his young friends. "All me life have I dhrunk more er less av the cup that cheers; but I'm through now, byes, not so much either because ut's a fit av the blue divils the stuff give me but because I mane from now on to quaff the swate draft of Nature widout a bad taste in me mouth. I'm through wid whisky feriver, and ut's Harry O'Dule, siventh son av a siventh son, so declares himself this day. Ut's out into God's blissid sunlight have I come afther bein' held prisoner by a deadlier disease than measles, me byes." "Well, that's me an' you. Now then, what you s'pose I meant by them symbols? I meant this. I've gotta watch gap. Fetch your dog over an' we'll set him to watch it, an' we'll skin out an' go fishin'.".
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Conrad
Billy was silent. Should he tell the truth and say that he had carved Ann's initials on the bench and those of Walter Watland beneath them at that young lady's pleading request? No! "Have you told anybody else about this besides me, Billy?" Billy spit out the fox-tail. "Where's this feller Scroggie now?" he asked, in a business-like tone. "All right," gruffly assented his companion, "if you're so cock sure, it suits me all right. Come on; let's get out of this cussed woods. Remember we've got some work before us tonight.".
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