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“Mr. Whitney? Oh, you mean ‘Whiskers,’ who put the engineering bug into Bob’s head, last year. We found him up the river at the cave. Would you like to go up there?” “It seems to me that you fellows hit on a really excellent plan to occupy your time during the summer. Who thought of it?” he asked after examining the plot. The stout gentleman had a tight grip on Johnny’s little red ear..
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No husband now is so terrific, “Indeed! You have done that, have you? Well—it looks as if they had all got bruised.” Bob got up early in order to see the Canyon at sunrise the morning after Steve Whitney went away, but found that in comparison to the sunset it was tame. Yet so inspiring was it that he was glad he had taken the trouble. The panorama spread before his eyes was one of which no other country could boast. Bob had seen pictures of it, had read about it, and had been taught about it from his geography, but nothing that he had read or heard or learned had given him even a faint idea of the glory of the thing as it actually was, no matter what time of the day it was seen. Having determined which way to pursue, he pushed his horse into a gallop, and entered the forest as the last rays of the sun trembled on the mountains. The thick foliage of the trees threw a gloom around, which was every moment deepened by the shades of evening. The path was uninterrupted, and the count continued to follow it till all distinction was confounded in the veil of night. Total darkness now made it impossible for him to pursue his way. He dismounted, and fastening his horse to a tree, climbed among the branches, purposing to remain there till morning..
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