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“You are a good Dad!” cried Bob, putting an arm around the older man’s shoulders and hugging him unashamedly. “Whiskers—that is, Steve Whitney—wrote and told me to report to him as soon as I could. Then I have your permission to go West just as soon as school closes?”,

That afternoon Johnny Blossom sat crouched on the stone steps leading to the road. The fishing rod lay beside him, but he did not feel like going fishing. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, thinking of Uncle Isaac. It might easily be that just now, this minute, Uncle Isaac stood outside that great golden gate—the gate that leads into Paradise—and knocked on it. To think that God can hear a man’s little knock. Why, that gate is surely as big as—yes, as the tallest pine tree over there, and all of gleaming gold; and God looks and throws the gate wide open of course, for he sees it is Uncle Isaac. And so Uncle Isaac goes into the Kingdom of Heaven.,

His reverie was broken into a few moments later by a bell boy coming out with a telegram. It was from Mr. Whitney, and sent from El Paso. Bob opened it and read: “Unexpected developments. Must go Washington. Back within three weeks. Will wire further instructions.”,

“Oh, it’s a Mozambique stamp, Aunt Grenertsen,” explained Johnny Blossom earnestly. “It is awfully rare. There isn’t another one in the whole town, Aunt Grenertsen.”

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Soon after leaving civilization the river broadened out into a shallow slow-moving stream. Bob lay back in the canoe and merely paddled sufficiently to steer it, letting the lazy current carry him slowly along. Close to the river bank everything was green and fresh looking, but this vegetation did not extend so far that Bob could not see where the green left off and the desert began.,

“I should like to know!” exclaimed Asta. “As heavy as he was to row!”,

Jerry let Bob tell of their adventure, putting in a word here and there. But when it came to the part where Bob had saved his life after dropping over the waterfall, he took the narrative in his own hands and in spite of Bob’s protests, told the Chief the whole story of the rescue.,

The noise increased, and they could distinguish voices. Hippolitus believed the murderers were returned; that they had traced his retreat, and were coming towards the vault by some way unknown to him. He prepared for the worst—and drawing his sword, resolved to defend Julia to the last. Their apprehension, however, was soon dissipated by a trampling of horses, which sound had occasioned his alarm, and which now seemed to come from a courtyard above, extremely near the vault. He distinctly heard the voices of the banditti, together with the moans and supplications of some person, whom it was evident they were about to plunder. The sound appeared so very near, that Hippolitus was both shocked and surprised; and looking round the vault, he perceived a small grated window placed very high in the wall, which he concluded overlooked the place where the robbers were assembled. He recollected that his light might betray him; and horrible as was the alternative, he was compelled to extinguish it. He now attempted to climb to the grate, through which he might obtain a view of what was passing without. This at length he effected, for the ruggedness of the wall afforded him a footing. He beheld in a ruinous court, which was partially illuminated by the glare of torches, a group of banditti surrounding two persons who were bound on horseback, and who were supplicating for mercy.