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“If we can only get behind the Tongue,” repeated Johnny. They rowed steadily for a while, their red faces showing the effort they made, while the wind blew more fiercely than ever. Shortly after dinner Johnny Blossom was out in the woodshed whittling a boat. How delightful and how queer that he should be “a credit to the school!” He would be awfully industrious now every single day; go over every lesson six times, at least. “You bet I don’t train along with him. I’m so sick of cows that I never want to see a long horn again. I’d like to be an engineer. I sneaked up once or twice to the dam. It must be fun to help built it. But I reckon it’s not for me.” The boys were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. Then the newcomer exclaimed, “But here’s the place we want to do some fishing. Grab a line and bait up!”.

“Wharfmaster, ahoy!” Billy hailed, as they came near the water’s edge. “Is all ship-shape?”I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was “Did Clarence show you the sights of the city this morning?” asked Mr. Crump, trying to repress a smile.

But he made one more try. Possibly a picture or newspaper had been tacked on the wall and had escaped his fingers when he had first gone round the room. A moment later Mr. Whitney was beside him, an expression on his face which the boy could not fathom. It was a stern look yet there was a twinkle in the kind eyes. His first words were ominous. Then Bob told him the news that he had been saving for next Sunday. “Come along to the Quarter-house with me and feed, and then we’ll go hunt Whiskers—I mean Mr. Whitney.” “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough water,” returned Bob. “Are you coming?”.