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Bob kept still, feeling that he would soon know what Miguel planned to do with the explosive, for if whatever plan the Mexican had conceived was not to be consummated to-night, it was evident that he would have buried the additional stuff he had brought instead of digging up his cache.,
“Such rough shaking, I don’t like. You must pick the apples.”,
Bob was overcome with astonishment. Not for a minute had he thought that the episode of last night would have brought on him more than the passing enmity of the Mexicans, but he realized that the Apache probably knew what he was about. Then it came to him that if there was bad blood between the Indians and Mexicans, in all probability Feather-in-the-Wind would know if there was any trouble brewing amongst the Mexicans themselves.,
When the children found themselves all alone, they began to scream and cry with all their might. Little Thumbling let them scream, well knowing how he could get home again, for on their way to the forest, he had dropped all along the road the little white pebbles he had in his pockets. He then said to them, "Have no fear, brothers; my father and mother have left us here, but I will take you safely home; only follow me." They followed him, and he led them back to the house by the same road that they had taken to the forest. They were afraid to go inside at once, but placed themselves close to the door, to listen to what their father and mother were saying. It chanced that just at the moment that the woodcutter and his wife reached home, the lord of the manor sent them ten crowns, which he had owed them a long time, and which they had given up all hope of receiving. This was new life to them, for the poor things were actually starving. The woodcutter immediately sent his wife to the butcher's, and, as it was many a day since they had tasted meat, she bought three times as much as was sufficient for two people's supper. When they had appeased their hunger, the woodcutter's wife said, "Alas! where now are our poor children? They would fare merrily on what we have left. But it was you, William, who would lose them. Truly did I say we should repent it. What are they now doing in the forest? Alas! Heaven help me! the wolves have, perhaps, already devoured them. Cruel man that you are, thus to have lost your children!"
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Oh, if he were only at home! Oh, those wicked postmaster’s boys who had rowed away and left him! They should get their pay when—but suppose he should die now! “Our Father who art in heaven.” Johnny Blossom, with eyes closed, said the whole of the Lord’s Prayer as he lay on his stomach on the red buoy. Now surely God would help him.,
To Bob’s great disgust his first job was not out on the construction work. Whiskers had turned him over to Mr. Taylor, who set him to work in the draughting room. All day long he sat on a stool, and did simple sums: endless multiplications and divisions of figures that came from the blue prints made by the engineers. It was stupid work and had in it little of the romance which he had always associated with the work he was to do. However, he comforted himself with the thought that if it were not necessary, the Chief would never set him at it.,
“Well, of course you must look nice,” said Johnny seriously, “but you don’t need anything fine. Good-by, and welcome to the party.”,
Probably this last remark was meant only to impress him, Bob thought. If the hut would hold him, Harper wouldn’t spend the night watching. It would be too uncomfortable. Moreover, it would be all the same if Harper was able to make his prisoner believe he would be outside waiting for an attempt at escape. Once more he heard a voice. This time it was directed at him. It was Harper.
Well, he would not get up yet anyway, since it was raining so hard. He would lie there and sing all the school songs. So he began singing at the top of his voice, “Yes, we love our grand old Norway.” That went splendidly. Then he started another, but that tune ran up rather too high for his voice.
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Johnny was gulping his soup with great haste.
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He now for the first time stopped to listen—the sounds of pursuit were ceased, and all was silent! Continuing to wander on in effectual endeavours to escape, his hands at length touched cold iron, and he quickly perceived it belonged to a door. The door, however, was fastened, and resisted all his efforts to open it. He was giving up the attempt in despair, when a loud scream from within, followed by a dead and heavy noise, roused all his attention. Silence ensued. He listened for a considerable time at the door, his imagination filled with images of horror, and expecting to hear the sound repeated. He then sought for a decayed part of the door, through which he might discover what was beyond; but he could find none; and after waiting some time without hearing any farther noise, he was quitting the spot, when in passing his arm over the door, it struck against something hard. On examination he perceived, to his extreme surprize, that the key was in the lock. For a moment he hesitated what to do; but curiosity overcame other considerations, and with a trembling hand he turned the key. The door opened into a large and desolate apartment, dimly lighted by a lamp that stood on a table, which was almost the only furniture of the place. The Count had advanced several steps before he perceived an object, which fixed all his attention. This was the figure of a young woman lying on the floor apparently dead. Her face was concealed in her robe; and the long auburn tresses which fell in beautiful luxuriance over her bosom, served to veil a part of the glowing beauty which the disorder of her dress would have revealed.
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Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy.
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>The man hesitated a moment before going on with the conversation. When he spoke it was seemingly from a new angle.
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