through the dusky twilight, soft with woodland dews and sweet with odor of ferns and wild flowers, billy walked slowly. for the first time in long days his heart felt at peace. the canker of loneliness that had gnawed at his spirit was there no longer. it was a pretty good old world after all.

a whip-poor-will lilted its low call from a hazel copse and billy answered it. a feeling that he wanted to visit his wild things in the upland shanty and explain to them his seeming neglect of them during his time of stress took possession of him. so, although he knew supper would be ready and waiting at home, he branched off where the path forked and hurried forward toward the oak ridge.

it was almost dark when he reached the little log sugar-shanty which housed his pets. he had hidden a lantern in a hollow log against such night visits as this and he paused to draw it out and light it before proceeding to the menagerie. as he rounded the shanty, whistling softly, and anticipating how glad spotba, moper, the owl, and all the other wild inmates would be to see him, he paused suddenly, and the whistle died on his lips. somebody had been snooping about his menagerie! the prop had been taken from the door.

his mind traveled at once to anse. so that meddler had been here and tried to let his pets free, had he? apparently the chump didn't know they each had a separate cage, or if he did he hadn't the nerve to open it. well, it meant that anse had that much more to settle for with him, that was all!

billy put his hand on the latch of the door, then stood, frozen into inaction. from the interior of the shanty had come a groan—a human groan! billy almost dropped the lantern. a cold shiver ran down his spine. his mind flashed to old scroggie's ghost. the hand that groped into his pocket in search of the rabbit-foot charm trembled so it could scarcely clasp that cherished object.

what would trigger finger do if placed in his position? billy asked himself. there was only one answer to that. he took a long breath and, picking up a heavy club, swung the door open. the feeble rays of the lantern probed the gloom and something animate, between the cages, stirred and sat up.

"harry!" gasped billy, "harry o'dule!"

"ha," cried a quavering voice, "and is ut the prince av darkness, himself, as spakes t' me? thin it's no fit av the delirium tremens i've had at all, at all, but dead i am and in purgatory! oh weary me, oh weary me! such shnakes and evil eyed burruds have i never seen before. och! could i be given wan taste av god's blissid air and sunshine ag'in, and never more would whiskey pass me lips."

spotba, the big mottled marsh snake, sensing billy's presence, uncoiled himself and raised his head along the screen of his cage; the brown owl hooted a low welcome that died in a hiss as harry groaned again.

"merciful hivin! look at the eyes av that awful burrud," he wailed. "and that big shnake hissin' his poison in me very face. take me along, divil, take me along," he screamed. "it's no more av this i kin stand at all, at all."

billy hung the lantern on the door and bent above the grovelling harry. "hey you," he said, giving the old man's shoulder a shake, "get up an' come out'a here; i'm not the devil, i'm billy."

"billy," harry held his breath and blinked his red-rimmed eyes in unbelief. "billy, ye say?" he got up with billy's help and stood swaying unsteadily.

"you're drunk again!" said the boy, in deep disgust.

harry wiped his lips on his sleeve and stood gazing fearfully about him. "do you see the shnakes and the evil-eyed burruds, billy bye?" he shuddered. "it's see 'em ye shurely can and hear their divil hisses." his fingers gripped the boy's arm.

billy shook him off. "look here, harry," he said, "you're seein' things. there ain't no snakes in here—no birds neither. you come along outside with me." he grasped the irishman by the arm and started toward the door.

"me jug," whispered harry. "where is that divil's halter av a jug, billy?"

"there's your jug on its side," billy touched the jug with his foot. "you must've drunk it empty, harry."

"faith, an' i did not. but ut's all the same, impty or full. niver ag'in will ut lead me into delirium tremens, i promise ye that, although it's meself that knows where there's a plinty of whisky, so i do."

billy led him outside and turned the light of the lantern full on his face. "harry," he said, sternly, "where are you gettin' all this whisky?"

the old man started. "that's me own business," he answered shortly.

"oh." billy took hold of his arm, "then them snakes an' man-eatin' birds you've been seein' are your own business, too; an' since you've been ninny enough to stray into this shanty, i'm goin' to put you back in it an' see that you stay in it."

"and fer god's sake, why?" gasped the frightened o'dule.

"that's my business," said billy.

harry glanced behind him with a shudder. "god love you fer a good lad, billy," he cried; "but this is no way to trate an ould frind, is ut now?"

"then you best tell me where you're gettin' the whisky," said billy.

"but that's shure the ould man's secret, billy," pleaded harry. "it's not a foine chap as ye are would be wheedlin' it out av me, now?"

billy frowned. "i know that spencer won't give you any more whisky," he said, "an' i know the deacon won't give you any more cider. i know that you've gettin' liquor some place—an' without payin' fer it. now you kin tell me where, er you kin stay in that shanty an' see snakes an' things all night."

harry wavered. "and if i be tellin' ye," he compromised, "ye'll be givin' a promise not to pass it along, thin? wull ye now?"

"yes i promise not to tell anybody but maurice?"

"then i'll be tellin' ye where i do be gettin' the whisky, billy; where else but in the ha'nted house."

"what?" billy could scarcely believe his ears.

"may i niver glimpse the blissid blue av ireland's skies ag'in, if i spake a lie," said harry, earnestly. "in the ha'nted house i found ut, billy. wait now, and i tell ye how ut so happened. ye'll be rememberin' that night we tried to wait fer ould scroggie's ghost an' the terrible storm come on and split us asunder wid a flash av blue lightnin'? i was crossin' meself in thankfulness that ut found the big elm instead av me, i was, whin i dropped me fairy charm, d'ye moind? stay and seek fer ut i would not, wid all the powers av darkness conspirin' wid ould scroggie ag'in me. ut's fly i did on the wings av terror to me own cabin, an' covered up me head wid the bed-quilt, i did."

"well, go on. what's all this got to do with whisky?"

"jest you wait a bit and you'll find that out. nixt day i go down there ag'in to look fer me charm, but find ut i did not. then wid me little jug in me hand and me whistle in me bosom, did i strike across woods to the twin oaks store, there to learn av the robbery. a little bit av drink did i get from spencer, an' takin' ut home was i when an accident i had, an' spilled ut. well, ut was afther several days av hard toil, wid not so much as a drop left in me little jug, that one mornin' as i was cuttin' through the lower valley fer thompson's tater-patch, that come to me ut did i'd search a bit fer me lost charm ag'in.

"ut was while pokin' about i was among the twigs on the ground, whisperin' a bit av witch-talk that belongs to me charm, that i discovered human foot-prints in the earth av the hollow. this i would not have thought strange a'tall a'tall, but the foot prints led right into the ha'nted grove. 'begobs,' thinks i, 'no ghost iver wore boots the size av them now!' on me hands and knees i crawled forrard an' right in the edge av the grove i glimpsed somethin', i did, beneath the ferns, somethin' that sparkled in the mornin' light like a bit av star-dust on the edge av a cloud. thinkin' only av me blessid charm, i crawled further in, and phwat do you suppose i picked up, billy bye? a bottle ut was, an' almost full av prime liquor.

"sit i there, wid god's sunlight caressin' me bare head and his burruds trillin' their joy at me good luck—and dhrink i did. it's a mercy ut was but a small bottle, else i might have taken it back to me cabin to be finished at leisure. instead, whin ut was all dhrunk up, i found widin me the courage to proceed further into the ha'nted grove. so i goes, an' afore i knew ut, right up to the ha'nted house i was, and inside ut."

harry paused and sat looking away, a reminiscent smile on his face.

"what did you find there?" billy's tone of impatience brought the old man out of his musing.

"whisky," he answered solemnly, "two great jugs full avut, billy bye."

"and what else?"

"nothin' else," returned harry. "nuthin' else that mattered, bye. a square box there was that i had no time to open a'tall; but whisky! oh, billy bye—there ut was afore me, enough av ut to coax all the blood-suckin' bats and snakes in hades up to mock the consumer av ut."

billy reached down and gripped the old man's arm. "you found that stuff and didn't so much as tell spencer?" he cried indignantly.

"and fer why should i tell spencer, thin?" harry asked, his blood-shot eyes wide in wonder. "nobuddy told me where to find ut, did they?"

"but harry, don't you see, that stuff belongs to caleb spencer. the thieves must have hid it there, in the ha'nted house."

"course they did," harry agreed. "ut's no fool you take me fer, shurely?"

"then why didn't you tell spencer? don't you know them thieves will find out you've been there an' they'll hide that stuff in a new place, harry?"

the old man laughed softly. "wull they now? well i guess they won't neither. it's hide ut in a new place i did, meself. they'll have a lot av trouble afindin' ut, too."

"then," cried billy, hotly, "you're as big a thief as they are."

"hould on now!" harry swayed up from the log, the grin gone from his face. "ut's little did i think that billy wilson would be misunderstandin' me," he said, reproachfully. "not wan article that the box contained has been teched by me. a small bit av the whisky have i took, because it was no more than sufficient reward fer me findin' the stuff, but the box is safe and safe ut wull be returned to spencer whin the proper time comes."

"an' when'll that be, harry?"

"listen thin." harry touched billy's arm. "ivery day since i made me discovery an' hid box and jugs in a new spot have i visited that sour-faced ould spencer, and i've said: 'supposin' one should discover your stolen goods, caleb spencer, would ye be willin' t' let what little whisky there was left go to the finder?"

"an' phwat has he said? 'some av ut,' said he, when first i broached the question. and the nixt time i axed him he said. 'half av ut.' nixt time—only yesterday ut was—he said, 'harry, i'd be givin' two-thirds av ut to the finder.'"

harry laughed and again touched billy's arm. "to-night ut's go back to him i wull an' the question put to him once more, an' this night, plase god, he wull likely say, 'all av ut, harry, all av ut.'"

billy, who was thinking hard, looked up at this. "but," he said sternly, "you said, only a few minutes ago, that you were done forever with whisky."

"and begobs i meant ut too," cried harry. "when caleb spencer says, 'all av ut' to me, ut's laugh at him i wull, and tell him it's meself wants none av ut."

billy's frown vanished. "fine, harry, fine," he commended, "an' i'll go down to the store with you. come up to the house, now, and i'll manage to sneak you out some supper."

"plase god," murmured harry, "but ut's meself 'll be glad to lave this awful spot; lead on, billy."

"foller me then, an' remember to keep quiet," cautioned billy.

"but fer why should i keep quiet? haven't i thrown off the curse av rum! why should i not shout the cry av victory, billy?

"shout nuthin'; you keep still."

"but a small bit av a chune, billy. a bit av a lilt on me whistle, now."

"no. after i've got hold of our supper you kin lilt all you care to. look here, harry, you know jest how much use ma has fer you; if she finds out you're on our place, she'll sick the dog on you. now you do as i say."

he took the path through the trees, harry stumbling close behind, grumbling and protesting against the unkind fate that would not allow of his celebrating victory in a manner befitting a true son of ireland. when, at length, they reached the edge of the wood, billy stopped and pointed to a stump.

"set down there an' keep still as a mouse till i get back," he admonished. "i won't be long."

"but, billy bye, supposin' the cold-eyed burruds an' the hissin' serpents should be returnin' to threaten me wance ag'in?"

billy's hand went down into his trouser's pocket. "look," he comforted, "i've got my rabbit-foot charm, an' i'm goin' to draw a magic circle 'round the stump you're settin' on. no snakes, owl, ner even old scroggie's ghost kin get inside that circle."

harry held his breath and watched him, fascinated, as he proceeded to trace the ring.

"fer the love av hivin, be sure ye make both inds av the circle jine," he shivered. "ut's a small crack a ghost kin squeeze through, i'm tellin' ye."

"there you are, harry." billy, having completed the magic circle, stood up and put the charm back in his pocket. "not a chink in it," he assured the old man.

"faith," sighed harry, "ut's meself is willin' to be riskin' a little in return fer a bite to eat, fer it's fastin' long i've been an' as impty as a church, i am."

"we'll fix that," billy promised, as he slipped away through the darkness toward the light which glimmered through the trees.