[...] That's so, Sweetest Susan rejoined. He's a witch, dat what he is, said Drusilla. Shucks! whispered Buster John. He heard the voice of Mr. Thimblefinger under the wood-pile. I've found it, I've found it! he cried. And presently he made his appearance, dragging the knife after him. He tugged at it until he got it out, and then he sat down on a chip, wiped the perspiration from his eyes, and fanned himself with a thin flake of[...].