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Tellef had been thrown farthest up; he pulled John to where he was, and there they lay, panting, while the boat swung and tossed in the sea, a little way out. “I live over the hill there,” answered the other boy. “Dad’s a stock raiser. You can see the house from the river after you get down a little further. I sneaked away from my old man this morning to see if I could get a few fish. They aren’t biting very good here, though,” he concluded. “I wish I had a boat, because I know of a peach of a place—” At the far edge of a group stood Lars Berget, who swung his hat in the air and ventured a faint, “Hurrah!” No one joined in it, however, for they bethought them of Uncle Isaac..

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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. “What?” echoed Mr. Whitney, who had decided as he listened to Bob’s story that the evidence against Jerry was sufficient to prove his guilt. “Oh, shut up!” was Jerry’s ungrateful retort. Since he had opened his eyes he had endeavored to find just that thing—with no success. But he would not own up until he had had another long look. But after a while he had to give in. Sad strains are faintly heard to swell:.