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Johnny Blossom took his leave in some disappointment. Miss Jorgensen wasn’t a bit nice—she was simply horrid. Oh, well, he didn’t mind. Anyway, she couldn’t say that no one had given her a Christmas present. It was a dangerous expedient but it was worth it, for Billy, resigned to the situation, waved back and a moment later the bucket started to swoop towards the other shore. “Bucket,” said the boy briefly..

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Johnny Blossom looked very small standing in the road beside the big carriage. The crown and brim of his hat gaped widely apart on one side, and out of the opening stuck a lock of dark brown hair. His blue and white striped blouse had a daub of pitch in the middle of the front; and since Johnny Blossom knew it was there, he held a little brown hand over it, while he gazed up at the double chin of the imposing Miss Melling. Lives, of all, the prop to be. A way of overcoming this obstacle came to Bob. Without wasting any more time talking he rushed down to the concrete shed to get there just as the loading gang had finished changing the great hook of the cableway from the empty bucket to a full one. The foreman had his hand raised to signal Billy to hoist away when Bob darted in and jumped onto the bucket. They decided they might just as well find out if there was any news from Whiskers before they made any move, so they telegraphed to the Grand Canyon, asking that any telegram that had come be forwarded on to them. Then they proceeded to loaf until the answer arrived..