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Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible. “But—but,” stammered Jerry, “I’m going to see somebody. They expect me.” It has taken a long time to describe the things that had happened to Bob since he heard Jerry’s predicament in the office, yet the actual time it had taken him to get Mr. Whitney to the scene of action was hardly a handful of minutes. This was proved by the fact that Bob had a confused belief that halfway back on the little engine he had seen Jerry on his way to find Mr. Whitney. These thoughts mingled in his brain as he followed his Chief to the temporary spillway..
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The fairy set out immediately, and an hour afterwards she was seen arriving in a chariot of fire, drawn by dragons. “We could have sent the horse in to the young gentleman,” he said, with extreme politeness. Johnny Blossom suddenly found something the matter with his shoestring. His face was very red when he straightened up again, saying, “How provoking shoestrings are!” "There is no greater proof of intelligence, madam, than the belief that we have it not; it is the nature of that gift, that the more we have, the more we believe ourselves to be without it.".
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