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Too little! Were they crazy? Indeed he wouldn’t have double time. He would ride better than any of them, he would. Who was it owned the horse? He would show them who could ride best; and he struck Bob sharply. “Away with you, Bob! Faster! Faster!” It was a little farther to go home around past Aunt Grenertsen’s, but he didn’t mind that, for it was interesting to watch how the apples grew and to see whether Katrina had gathered any. But day after day everything remained exactly the same. There hung the apples still—the only change being that they grew riper and riper and more tempting. Aunt Grenertsen sat gazing out of her window from behind the plants, and old Katrina, grumpy as ever, stood at the kitchen window peering over the sash curtain, in exactly the same way every day. “Oh no, Aunt Grenertsen. Six of them are not bruised at all, and these two only the least bit.”.

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Bob gasped. He was sure that the match’s usefulness was over, but feverishly, throwing caution to the winds, he rasped the head against the planking of the door. “Yes. Isn’t it interesting, Aunt Grenertsen? Isn’t it a beauty?” Pity, surprize, and admiration struggled in the breast of Hippolitus; and while he stood surveying the object which excited these different emotions, he heard a step advancing towards the room. He flew to the door by which he had entered, and was fortunate enough to reach it before the entrance of the persons whose steps he heard. Having turned the key, he stopped at the door to listen to their proceedings. He distinguished the voices of two men, and knew them to be those of the assassins. Presently he heard a piercing skriek, and at the same instant the voices of the ruffians grew loud and violent. One of them exclaimed that the lady was dying, and accused the other of having frightened her to death, swearing, with horrid imprecations, that she was his, and he would defend her to the last drop of his blood. The dispute grew higher; and neither of the ruffians would give up his claim to the unfortunate object of their altercation. Bob shook the sleep out of his eyes and hustled into his clothes. When he came downstairs with Jerry he found that Mr. Whitney had already finished his breakfast and had gone out. So he and Jerry had theirs. During the meal Bob tried again to draw his new comrade out, but the same unwillingness to talk possessed Jerry. Bob rather wondered what was the matter. He had not been used to meeting with such reserve. He remembered also that during the conversation on the porch the night before Jerry had spoken hardly a word but sat in his chair motionless. At last, giving it up as a bad job, he finished his meal in silence. Steve Whitney met them in the lobby..