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That night, in accordance with his plan to try to get as much as he could of the general atmosphere of the situation, Bob decided to go down to the lower camp. On the highest ground were the mechanics’ houses, and from them, sloping to the river bank, were the bunk houses and shacks of the Mexican laborers. At one side, a little apart, was the camp of the Indians who, aside from the Mexicans, were practically the only laborers to be had in that section of the country. Of course, they were far less in number than the Mexicans. The street on which the motion picture theatre and the stores were located, was well lighted by the power plant and had been dubbed “Broadway.”,

“Yes, Aunt Grenertsen.”,

“Oh, no. These are some that got smashed and you said we might eat those.”,

Suspicious of the truth of the latter assertion, the duke ordered his people to search the cottage, and that part of the forest contiguous to it. The search ended in disappointment. The duke, however, resolved to obtain all possible information concerning the fugitives; and assuming, therefore, a stern air, bade the peasant, on pain of instant death, discover all he knew of them.

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When at last the sun dropped below the edge of the distant hills, leaving the Canyon in deep purple shadow, Bob turned to Mr. Whitney.,

As he made his way back to the upper camp, Bob realized that in all probability he had done a foolish thing to mix in on a quarrel between the Mexicans and the Indians. That probably would mark him out among the Mexicans as someone unfriendly to them and it might have been better if he had stayed in the background. But the sight of the crowd jumping on the solitary Indian had been too much for him.,

“The waves were too high, you see—that’s the way it all came; and the umbrella was too frightfully heavy; but we landed head first, if you’ll believe it. This is the way we fell over each other.” And Johnny Blossom demonstrated on the veranda floor how they had been cast ashore.,

Ferdinand, in the stillness and solitude of his dungeon, brooded over the late calamity in gloomy ineffectual lamentation. The idea of Hippolitus—of Hippolitus murdered—arose to his imagination in busy intrusion, and subdued the strongest efforts of his fortitude. Julia too, his beloved sister—unprotected—unfriended—might, even at the moment he lamented her, be sinking under sufferings dreadful to humanity. The airy schemes he once formed of future felicity, resulting from the union of two persons so justly dear to him—with the gay visions of past happiness—floated upon his fancy, and the lustre they reflected served only to heighten, by contrast, the obscurity and gloom of his present views. He had, however, a new subject of astonishment, which often withdrew his thoughts from their accustomed object, and substituted a sensation less painful, though scarcely less powerful. One night as he lay ruminating on the past, in melancholy dejection, the stillness of the place was suddenly interrupted by a low and dismal sound. It returned at intervals in hollow sighings, and seemed to come from some person in deep distress. So much did fear operate upon his mind, that he was uncertain whether it arose from within or from without. He looked around his dungeon, but could distinguish no object through the impenetrable darkness. As he listened in deep amazement, the sound was repeated in moans more hollow. Terror now occupied his mind, and disturbed his reason; he started from his posture, and, determined to be satisfied whether any person beside himself was in the dungeon, groped, with arms extended, along the walls. The place was empty; but coming to a particular spot, the sound suddenly arose more distinctly to his ear. He called aloud, and asked who was there; but received no answer. Soon after all was still; and after listening for some time without hearing the sounds renewed, he laid himself down to sleep. On the following day he mentioned to the man who brought him food what he had heard, and enquired concerning the noise. The servant appeared very much terrified, but could give no information that might in the least account for the circumstance, till he mentioned the vicinity of the dungeon to the southern buildings. The dreadful relation formerly given by the marquis instantly recurred to the mind of Ferdinand, who did not hesitate to believe that the moans he heard came from the restless spirit of the murdered Della Campo. At this conviction, horror thrilled his nerves; but he remembered his oath, and was silent. His courage, however, yielded to the idea of passing another night alone in his prison, where, if the vengeful spirit of the murdered should appear, he might even die of the horror which its appearance would inspire.