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“We’ll talk more about it later,” was what he said. “Now, young Hazard, if you want to see the ranch I’ll go along with you. Coming, Jerry?” Why! There he was back again. “Six minutes and eight seconds going,” he shouted, “and eight minutes and one second coming back!” Bob was asleep almost as soon as he touched the pillow. The long trip on the train had tired him more than he had thought and he did not wake until a heavy pounding on the door broke into his slumbers. Jerry King came in when he at last answered..

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Later he invited many, many children from the town as well as from his own school, and all the teachers. From where they were sitting, screened by the undergrowth, they could see a section of a rough path that led up the hillside. For a long time nothing happened. As the Indian did not speak, Bob felt it best to remain quiet also. Probably there was a reason for it. The delay did not worry him much, however, as there was plenty of material for his mind to be busy with. Ever since he had talked with Mr. Whitney, events had tumbled upon him one after another. Mr. Whitney had gone and Ted was doing outpost duty. Jerry was on the other side. Only the Indian was left to him and he was not much of a counselor. True, he was beginning to prove himself a great help but through the limitations of language he could not be used to discuss what ought to be done regarding the things they found out. What the outcome of the mess was to be was beyond Bob’s imagination to foresee. He was determined to do what he felt was his duty, and if the consequences were serious it could not be helped. Then, as suddenly as the hope had come, it fled. Possibly Mr. Whitney had not come back! Feather-in-the-Wind alone would be no use! He must get out himself! “I am not a specimen. I am Johnny Blossom.”.