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The boat scraped against the wharf. “That’s the only thing I’ll really be sorry for—and leaving you, old man. But after all, it was you who was responsible for the trip. I just went because you dared me into it. No, Bob, if Link will go North with me, I’ll have to pass up the Labyrinth.” “You killed him?”.
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Conrad
Inside, Bob had been listening with wide open ears and his mind pictured the scene Jerry had left to find Mr. Whitney and filled out the holes the winded boy had left in his description. He knew the auxiliary spillway and the harm it could do if it should fail to carry its burden. It was a temporary affair of wood to be used only until a system of drains could be built to take care of the excess water that collected below the coffer dam. His mind’s eye saw Rutherford and Jerry at the dangerous place: Rutherford, young and inexperienced, doing what he could to avert disaster, but rattled, probably badly so. He wanted Mr. Whitney or somebody with practical knowledge and he had sent Jerry off to bring help. All Bob could do was to hope that the wall would hold. “It was good of you,” he said as gravely as the Indian had spoken. “But you can help me further perhaps.” Without the boat, they would have no provisions. The nature of the country didn’t promise much in the way of forage, and even if they succeeded in climbing the canyon walls, they would probably starve before they reached civilization. It was a terrifying prospect and each boy realized it fully. But neither would show to the other the fear that gripped him. Stumbling and weak they made their way over the rocks until they could see around the bend. MORAL.
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