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And hails thy gradual step, thy influence mild. “Yes. Isn’t it interesting, Aunt Grenertsen? Isn’t it a beauty?” “Thank heaven, he wouldn’t stand for the rough stuff. He told them that just out of sheer meanness he would not mind delaying things, but when it came to blowing up Government stuff and laying it onto the Mexicans, it looked too much like treachery for him. He was American—that the plan did not seem like the American way of doing things. Gee, I was proud of him. Finally the other two men started to raise thunder with the old man and he kicked them out. That’s all. I reckon I found out what you wanted, didn’t I?”.

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As he swam nearer to the object which was swirling around in the water, it constantly eluded his grasp, but he saw that it was Jerry. It was as if the river was playing tag with him, snatching the thing he wanted out of his reach. Reason told him that Jerry was dead. What was the use of his trying to keep up this endeavor when it was all so useless? But something kept him striving, held him to his aim. He couldn’t give up. With a last despairing lunge, he shot into the eddy and caught his comrade’s shoulder. With infinite pains he swam with his prize to the bank. Safely there, he had only strength to pull it halfway out of the water. “Some class, eh, Bob?” laughed Whiskers as they settled themselves. “I found it and try to get here every night. But let’s stop talking; it’s about to begin.” Such is the moral of this little story— “No—no, sir,” stammered Bob, helplessly. “He wasn’t there—he’s in Las Cruces—”.