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Bob got up early in order to see the Canyon at sunrise the morning after Steve Whitney went away, but found that in comparison to the sunset it was tame. Yet so inspiring was it that he was glad he had taken the trouble. The panorama spread before his eyes was one of which no other country could boast. Bob had seen pictures of it, had read about it, and had been taught about it from his geography, but nothing that he had read or heard or learned had given him even a faint idea of the glory of the thing as it actually was, no matter what time of the day it was seen.,

“Gee, that’s tough!” commented Bob, happy that Mr. Whitney had enough confidence to tell him all these things. “But about the Mexicans; you don’t suspect anyone around the job is the trouble maker, do you?”,

The first thing was to examine his prison. There might be an opening that had been overlooked. Bob started from the door and felt every inch of the wall within his reach. His fingers had to do duty for his eyes, as by this time night had fallen and the interior of the hut was pitch dark. Not even a ray of moonlight came through the cracks in the door. In this slow fashion he made the circuit of the room without finding even a crack in the dried clay.,

Suddenly Bob remembered that he had left his job in the office without anybody’s authority. The excitement had made him forget that he had a job. Now, when everything was quiet, the realization that probably he had been missed came to him and he started to make tracks in the general direction of the office. He had not gone far, however, when he heard a familiar voice hail him from behind. It was Mr. Whitney, so he slowed up and turned.

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Olaf and Herman plied the oars as hard as they could, while Johnny Blossom sat proudly erect upon the “red pear.” He had never thought of its being possible for any one to sit here. Just think, only water far and wide around him! Yet here he sat entirely at his ease, could sit here just the same if a storm should blow up—that would be a small matter for Johnny Blossom. Now that the boys were away off behind the big coal steamer, any one might wonder how much farther they meant to row.,

“Boss Whitney not here,” stated the Indian. “Boss Taylor good man but not like Chief. You wait for him. Now I go send one, two my young men trail Miguel. Perhaps they catch him—Jenkins, he never catch him. He tired. Not much good trail nohow.”,

Blue Beard returned that very evening, and said that he had received letters on the road, telling him that the business on which he was going had been settled to his advantage.,

On the day before Christmas, big, soft snowflakes drifted slowly down from a lowering gray sky. The snow melted as soon as it fell, and from the sea a raw, wet wind came whining in; but there might have been worse weather, and Johnny Blossom, at any rate, was well content. He was going out to distribute his presents today. It was so pleasant to take them himself to the different persons.