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“Yes,” continued Uncle Isaac. “He who heals instead of wounds, he who does good and helps the needy, he is the greatest, John Blossom.” “If we’ve got to use it, Jerry,” he suggested, “don’t you think you had better tell me something about it now while we’ve got a chance? Then I’ll be of more use when we get down to the canyon.” Jerry’s two companions had reined up also and were waiting for the answer. Bob quickly saw the object of this maneuver. After he had gone one of them had suspected that his being at the ranch with Jerry was not just an innocent visit. Probably they had struck on what was really the truth of the matter—that Bob was suspicious in a general way of Jerry and had taken a chance that he might learn something definite if he came out and spent a day with him. Evidently Jerry had not been able to make Wesley and Harper believe that Bob’s suspicions had been quieted and they had insisted on following him on the pretext of shutting him up about the poker business. This was to be used only as a cloak under which to threaten him against telling anyone of any suspicions he might have. They hoped in this way to frighten him into silence..

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He took his way slowly down, hiding behind trees, looking out and then sneaking forward again, until he reached the open beach. The picnic party was still feasting merrily, making speeches and drinking one another’s health. Johnny stole along, dodging from rock to rock. Suddenly one of the ladies called out: “Mercy! there he is!” Then they all clapped their hands and shouted to him and clapped their hands again. Pity, surprize, and admiration struggled in the breast of Hippolitus; and while he stood surveying the object which excited these different emotions, he heard a step advancing towards the room. He flew to the door by which he had entered, and was fortunate enough to reach it before the entrance of the persons whose steps he heard. Having turned the key, he stopped at the door to listen to their proceedings. He distinguished the voices of two men, and knew them to be those of the assassins. Presently he heard a piercing skriek, and at the same instant the voices of the ruffians grew loud and violent. One of them exclaimed that the lady was dying, and accused the other of having frightened her to death, swearing, with horrid imprecations, that she was his, and he would defend her to the last drop of his blood. The dispute grew higher; and neither of the ruffians would give up his claim to the unfortunate object of their altercation. At home that day they had been baking the Christmas cakes. Johnny Blossom had eaten not a little of the raw dough, and his sister Asta and he had made some cakes of remarkable shapes (though rather dingy from much handling), which they were allowed to bake. “But isn’t your shirt wet?”.