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When he came to the surface, Bob’s first sensation was one of extreme weariness. So spent was he that it was all he could do to keep himself afloat. The possibility of another shot from Miguel did not spur him to dodging in the water. If the shot was to come, it would. Bob knew that he was alive, therefore the danger which threatened the dam was over. This being the case, a great contentment came to him—what could happen to him now mattered very little., This time a crash, a splintering of the wood was the result. Once more he dived into it and the next moment he was in the gray air of the early dawn., "It is your grand-daughter, Little Red Riding-Hood," answered the Wolf, imitating the child's voice. "I have brought a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent you." The good grandmother, who was ill in bed, called out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. He leaped on to the poor old woman, and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been three days without food. He then shut the door again, and laid himself down in the grandmother's bed, to wait for Little Red Riding-Hood. Presently she came and knocked at the door: tap, tap..