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This maneuver was executed without mishap and the only person who saw him go in was the Mexican cook, who paid little attention.,
The intense desert sun, however, woke them early to the realization of their weary muscles. Bob was up first and disturbed Jerry’s slumbers by a sudden peal of laughter.,
“You—you think Congress will authorize it?” ventured Bob, just to make sure.,
“I do. It just so happens that I can spare a few days right now. Besides, I’d like to meet the fellows you are always writing about—Tom and Ned—and see the place where you grew that big crop of corn last summer.”
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Johnny Blossom made no answer to this remark, but got up quickly from his chair by the door and went over to the window where Aunt Grenertsen sat.,
“Oh, I went to the Mexican bunkhouses and told Miguel’s bunch that he’d sent me to tell ’em to meet him somewheres up the river. I sent ’em just as far away as I could from the place trouble was likely to happen without letting ’em get suspicious. They slipped out one at a time before you doubled the guards, Mr. Taylor,” he finished with a smile.,
“I don’t reckon he ought myself,” was the laconic answer. “But he does and that’s about all there’s to it as far as I can figure.”,
“No further this way!” the order came in quiet yet determined English. Bob recognized in the speaker one of the extra watchmen Boss Taylor had put on.
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When they awoke the next morning the rounded chamber of the canyon was flooded with light.
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Beauty spent three months in the castle, more or less happily. The Beast paid her a visit every evening, and conversed with her as she ate her supper, showing good sense in his talk, but not what the world deems cleverness. Every day Beauty discovered some fresh good quality in the monster; she grew accustomed to his ugliness, and far from fearing his visit, she would often look at her watch to see if it was nearly nine o'clock, for the Beast always arrived punctually at that hour. There was only one thing which caused distress to Beauty, and that was, that every evening before retiring, the monster asked her if she would be his wife, and always appeared overcome with sorrow at her refusal. One day she said to him, "You grieve me, Beast; I wish it were possible for me to marry you, but I am too truthful to make you believe that such a thing could ever happen; I shall always be your friend, try to be satisfied with that." "I suppose I must," responded the Beast; "I know I am horrible to look upon, but I love you very much. However, I am but too happy that you consent to remain here; promise me that you will never leave me." The colour came into Beauty's face; her mirror had shown her that her father was ill with the grief of losing her, and she was hoping to see him again. "I would promise without hesitation never to leave you," said Beauty to him, "but I do so long to see my father again, that I shall die of sorrow if you refuse me this pleasure." "I would rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you pain; I will send you home to your father, you will stay there, and your poor Beast will die of grief at your absence." "No, no," said Beauty, crying; "I care for you too much to wish to cause your death; I promise to return in a week's time. You have let me see that my sisters are married, and that my brothers have entered the army. My father is all alone, let me remain with him a week." "You shall be with him to-morrow morning, but remember your promise. When you wish to return, you have only to put your ring on the table before going to bed. Farewell, Beauty." The Beast gave his usual sigh as he said these words, and Beauty went to bed feeling troubled at the thought of the sorrow she had caused him. When she awoke the following morning, she found herself at home, and ringing a little bell that stood beside her bed, the maid-servant came in, who gave a loud cry of astonishment at seeing her there. Her father ran in on hearing the cry, and almost died of joy when he found his dear daughter, and they remained clasped in each other's arms for more than a quarter of an hour.
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“Are you crazy? You’ll ruin it completely!” he shouted. The little wet finger was drawn hastily back.
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>Then, as suddenly as the hope had come, it fled. Possibly Mr. Whitney had not come back! Feather-in-the-Wind alone would be no use! He must get out himself!
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