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 A capering, reckless, and emancipated band of ragged nomads crept and dodged stealthily out past old Captain Steiner's orchard, past the graveyard, and past Judge Eby's cow-pasture, to essay for "shiners" and "punkin-seeds," and to adventure with life among the rafts and odorous logs of the old river. For in an hour, almost, a new and all-conquering infection had swept through Chamboro. Few were to escape the disease, for once more the sleepy little river town was in the throes of spring-fever.

Piggie Brennan stooped down and tried the water that stood in a stagnant little pool just in front of Curry's greenhouse. He reported it, jubilantly, to be warmer than milk. Then Billie Steiner tried it, and remained discreetly silent, for, pending the drying of a belated washing, he had fallen back on a pair of his sister's stockings, with the too-voluminous tops carefully stretched and tucked up under his trouser-legs—and he did not care to have the fact known.

But others soon confirmed Piggie's verdict, and a sudden decisive "Gee, then, here goes!" from Pud Jones was followed by the