Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped.,
It was not long before the rolling hills on either side of the stream gave way to rocky cliffs and deep gulches through which little creeks trickled into the river. The current grew faster and here and there an ugly rock showed its head above the surface, the water rushing by angrily on either side.,
“Yes,” he said slowly, “it looks possible to me. Better’n that, Bob, it looks mighty lucky. Nature has given us a big help if it turns out that it is possible.”.
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