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I swanny, if that bird doesn't stop predictin' wet weather, I'll get so scared I won't durst put in my corn afore June. They's some birds like killdeers an' bobwhites 'at can make things pretty plain, but I never heard a bird 'at could jest speak words out clear an' distinct like that fellow. Seems to come from the river bottom.

"What's it all about?" said Valentine, rousing himself and remarking some little forked sticks held by the boys. "Why, it's an adder down that hole," cried one. "And it's a charm we've got for conjuring him," quoth the other. "And we only want Swanny to dig, and then if the charm is only a sham charm, the adder will come out." "I should have thought he was a sight better wheer he is," said Swan.

"Swanny," asked Crayshaw, "have you got a pipe in your pocket? I want one to lie on my desk." "Well, now, to think o' your asking me such a question, just as if I was ever known to take so much as a whiff in working hours no, not in the tool-house, nor nowhere." "But just feel. Come, you might."

"'And from three double to two double, And from two double to one double, Now! No double hath he, "There, now he's gone, doubled up to nothing. Now dig, Swanny, and you'll see he's gone." "It's only an old Cornish charm," said Valentine. "I often heard it when I was a boy." "I call it heathenish!" exclaimed Mr. Swan.