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“At the Canyon?” asked Mr. Whitney. “I don’t see how you could. It is a pretty dreary place, if you have to be there long.” “Why, John! Are you standing there in your night gown painting?” Deep silence..

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“Gee, but he went quick,” said Bob to himself, “and I wanted to put him wise to Miguel! Well, he’s gone, so there’s no use bothering. Now to tell Mr. Whitney the dope Ted brought!” Bob—that was the horse’s name—knew Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there was no doubt about that, for the little horse would turn around in his stall and whinny at the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed his pretty coat for him every day—dear, cunning little Bob! “You mustn’t forget anybody,” warned Mother. Indeed, they wouldn’t go into the water! Oh, the horrid little goat!.