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One thing was sure. After what he had seen he could no longer pretend even to himself that Jerry was not mixed up somehow in what certainly seemed to be a disgraceful business. He could put no other explanation on it. Although it was hard to think that the boy who had shared the adventure of the Labyrinth with him could be guilty of anything really wrong, he realized the time had come when he could not let anything but facts sway him. Jerry was on the other side without a doubt. Most probably he was the connecting link between the cattlemen who wished to stir up trouble for the dam by means of the Mexicans, and the leaders of the Mexicans themselves.,

A stretch of good going gave them time for a little reflection. Bob busied himself with thoughts of a possible dam site. It seemed queer to him that Jerry had appeared to take no interest in the canyon for this purpose.,

“We might as well be going,” said Jerry. “Hop in.” He was already at the oars, which he had tied securely to the oarlocks. The wisdom of this precaution was later to be proved to them. Once Bob was in, Jerry pulled off. He was a fair oarsman and going with the current the boat made good time. At this point the river was broad and, except for the towering hills which rose in the distance, it might have been a peaceful tributary stream of any civilized river. Its calm surface gave no warning of what was to come in the way of rapids and whirlpools. After a bit Bob took the oars and as he had had more experience with boats he made even better time than Jerry had. Turn by turn they went through the morning.,

“Why?” Bob wanted to know.

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Just as the crowd was growing weary, the roar of a high powered gasoline engine drowned out the noise they were making. With the muffler cut out open and the exhaust snapping explosions like the reports of young cannon, a car dashed down the street and stopped with a jerk. Out of it hopped Big Boss Whitney.,

It was so. In this frontier camp practically all the comforts that the civilization of a city could give were present: electric lights, ice, excellent stores—and the movie theatre. It was like transplanting a little corner of a city.,

It was morning when he landed at a small port of Sicily, and proceeded towards the abbey of St Augustin. As he travelled, his imagination revolved the scenes of his early love, the distress of Julia, and the sufferings of Ferdinand, and his heart melted at the retrospect. He considered the probabilities of Julia having found protection from her father in the pity of the Padre Abate; and even ventured to indulge himself in a flattering, fond anticipation of the moment when Julia should again be restored to his sight.,

“Nope,” said the other. “Dad don’t want me to be a cowboy. I wouldn’t mind that much. He wants me to be a farm hand! Nix on that! I wish I could go up to the dam. That’s regular work. Reckon I could get a job up there?”