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Naturally, Bob’s first thought was of escape, of some way in which to get out of the four walls which kept him from carrying the warning to Mr. Whitney that might mean the saving of the dam. If he could only get out, he did not fear Harper’s being on guard. The last speech that had come to him through the door had been so contradictory and had emphasized so strongly the fact that Harper would be outside, that Bob was quite sure he wouldn’t. At any rate he was willing to take the chance if only he could get out.,
He next passed through a large courtyard paved with marble, ascended the staircase, and entered the guard-room, where the guards stood, drawn up in line, their carbines shouldered, and snoring their loudest. He traversed several rooms with ladies and gentlemen all asleep, some standing, others seated. At last he came to one covered with gold, and there on a bed, the curtains of which were open on either side, he saw the most lovely sight he had ever looked upon—a Princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, and whose dazzling beauty shone with a radiance which scarcely seemed to belong to this world. He approached, trembling and admiring, and knelt down beside her.,
He would take this report to Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe, too. Uncle Isaac was always questioning and probing to find out how he got on at school. Now he should see! Sharp whistling again pierced the air.,
“They’re coming!”
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Once back at the dam Bob took his share of the fish he had caught up to Mr. Whitney’s cottage. “Brought you some fish, Chief,” he said. “But I think I’ve hooked a much bigger fish. I met a young chap down the river who seems to be the right stuff for the Service. He’s crazy about it.”,
That afternoon Johnny Blossom sat crouched on the stone steps leading to the road. The fishing rod lay beside him, but he did not feel like going fishing. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, thinking of Uncle Isaac. It might easily be that just now, this minute, Uncle Isaac stood outside that great golden gate—the gate that leads into Paradise—and knocked on it. To think that God can hear a man’s little knock. Why, that gate is surely as big as—yes, as the tallest pine tree over there, and all of gleaming gold; and God looks and throws the gate wide open of course, for he sees it is Uncle Isaac. And so Uncle Isaac goes into the Kingdom of Heaven.,
“What is it?” demanded the boy.,
Early one afternoon the three boys, Olaf, Herman, and Johnny, had a great desire to go rowing. They peered everywhere around the wharf for a boat that they could use. Not a sign of one was to be seen; not a boat of any kind—to say nothing of one that they could borrow in such a hurry. So they went round to the Custom House wharf. True as you live, there lay a dory, with oars and everything, right down at the foot of the little steps. They wouldn’t have dared to think of taking the boat if it had been at the big Custom House steps, but since it was at the little steps near the warehouse, it was probably not a Custom House boat at all. Johnny Blossom, for his part, was quite sure it was not.
The man then showed Johnny over the whole steamer. Above one of the hammocks hung a picture of the same two boys; and when they came to this, the man laughed again and laid his hand upon his heart.
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On the following morning Peter returned to the dungeon, scarcely knowing what to expect, yet expecting something very strange, perhaps the murder, perhaps the supernatural disappearance of his young lord. Full of these wild apprehensions, he dared not venture thither alone, but persuaded some of the servants, to whom he had communicated his terrors, to accompany him to the door. As they passed along he recollected, that in the terror of the preceding night he had forgot to fasten the door, and he now feared that his prisoner had made his escape without a miracle. He hurried to the door; and his surprize was extreme to find it fastened. It instantly struck him that this was the work of a supernatural power, when on calling aloud, he was answered by a voice from within. His absurd fear did not suffer him to recognize the voice of Ferdinand, neither did he suppose that Ferdinand had failed to escape, he, therefore, attributed the voice to the being he had heard on the preceding night; and starting back from the door, fled with his companions to the great hall. There the uproar occasioned by their entrance called together a number of persons, amongst whom was the marquis, who was soon informed of the cause of alarm, with a long history of the circumstances of the foregoing night. At this information, the marquis assumed a very stern look, and severely reprimanded Peter for his imprudence, at the same time reproaching the other servants with their undutifulness in thus disturbing his peace. He reminded them of the condescension he had practised to dissipate their former terrors, and of the result of their examination. He then assured them, that since indulgence had only encouraged intrusion, he would for the future be severe; and concluded with declaring, that the first man who should disturb him with a repetition of such ridiculous apprehensions, or should attempt to disturb the peace of the castle by circulating these idle notions, should be rigorously punished, and banished his dominions. They shrunk back at his reproof, and were silent. 'Bring a torch,' said the marquis, 'and shew me to the dungeon. I will once more condescend to confute you.'
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Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>So Johnny Blossom repeated the little prayers he had said every night since he was two years old, and was soon sleeping peacefully.
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