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Choked, stifling with the intense heat, Bob fell on his face, remembering that smoke always rises. “There’ll be plenty of work for ’em. It happens we’re a little short on rodmen just now. But about sleeping quarters—I’ve got your house ready for you, Whitney, and as soon as your dunnage comes along you can move right in,” he said. “I should like to know!” exclaimed Asta. “As heavy as he was to row!”.

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Yes, the apple boat. It was painted green as it had been last year; the sails were patched; the poorest apples lay in heaps on the deck, the medium sort were in bags, and the best apples were in baskets. In the midst of this tempting abundance Mrs. Lind, who was uncommonly stout, usually sat, knitting. When her husband was up in town delivering apples Mrs. Lind took care of the boat, the apples, and Nils and everything. Nils, their son, was more to look after than all the rest put together, for he was the worst scalawag to be found along the whole coast. “My god-daughter, Dagny—she is getting big now?” 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. “Why—why you never wanted to go before and I—I don’t think I can take you with me to-day.”.