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“P’r’aps—p’r’aps it goes through a cave,” suggested Bob. “I’ve read about underground rivers, haven’t you?” Panting, struggling, gasping, he fought on. His mind was filled with the horror of what would happen should he be too late. There was no way of telling how far Miguel had gone. The dam that kept him hidden from the Mexican, also hid the Mexican from him. He must—he must go on until he was well past the center of the dam—Miguel would do the job thoroughly if at all. Once there he must go through a fresh ordeal. He must climb out of the water and look over the edge of the dam in order to get his bearings and to find out where the Mexican had lit the fuse. Should he look over at the wrong spot and Miguel see him, it was the end—the end probably of his life and surely the finish of the coffer dam. THE first of September was Johnny Blossom’s birthday, and Father and Mother had decided that he should have a party and that the party should be held at Kingthorpe. How delightful that would be!.

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“Jolly sort of trip I’m going to have,” thought Bob, “if Jerry is going to keep up this sort of thing. I ought never to have said he was a grouch, though.” A few moments later Johnny remarked, “The goat ought really to go to Grassy Island today.” “Here comes Mother and you shall hear for yourself,” shouted John. “Didn’t I stand on the table, Mother? And shan’t I have Kingthorpe, Mother?” Mother assented soberly. “Mother! Mother!” shrieked Asta. “Here’s a piece of a finger, with your big shears, lying on the attic stairs!”.