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Bob’s perch on the tower was far from comfortable, so he hoped the conference going on below him would last no great length of time. The thin iron rungs of the ladder cut into his legs and his arms had begun to ache from the strain of holding himself in place without making any noise that would give him away. To add to his discomfort, he soon realized that although he could overhear clearly every word that passed between the figures on the ground it would do him no good, as they were talking in Spanish, a language in which Bob remembered Jerry could at least make himself understood. Since his arrival at the dam, the Eastern boy had made some attempt to pick up a working knowledge of it, but his time had been so short that he had not got very far. Therefore, only a word here and there meant anything to him and as these were simple words, they gave no clue to what was being discussed. Mother began to cry again, and there came a lump in Johnny Blossom’s throat. No, he would not cry. Big boys ought never to cry. “Far out?” asked Grandmother..
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“That was awfully well done, Johnny Blossom! Only twelve minutes.” "I see," said Riquet with the Tuft, "that this proposal troubles you, and I am not surprised, but I will give you a full year to consider it." The King gave orders that she was to be left to sleep there in quiet, until the hour of her awaking should arrive. The good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a hundred years, was in the Kingdom of Mataquin, twelve thousand leagues away, when the Princess met with her accident, but she was informed of it instantly by a little dwarf, who had a pair of seven-league boots, that is, boots which enabled the wearer to take seven leagues at a stride. “That’s mighty tough,” said Bob sympathetically, when Jerry paused for a moment. “I’ll bet Mr. Whitney cares—”.
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