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Oh, no, Johnny would tell nothing. Great sport this race was going to be for him, because of course he would ride the swiftest of all, being the most accustomed to riding. The boys devoted several days to practising for the great race which was to come off on Saturday. “Why don’t they shoot?” he thought. Hardly had the thought flashed through his brain when a bullet whistled by him. Then came another and another. “I think you’re right,” put in Jerry. “There ought to be nothing but the United States between Canada and the Panama Canal. But I don’t think we’ll go into Mexico unless the Mexicans raid our territory and kill somebody.”.

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At last he reached the turning point. Peter Prytz, who kept the time there, laughed uproariously. NOW there was going to be fun in plenty! Hadn’t they come out to Oxen Bay for the whole summer, Mother and the three sisters and himself? And wasn’t Father coming every Saturday to spend Sunday? They were living in Pilot Taraldsen’s small yellow house, and he and his boy Eric had moved out into a sort of woodshed for the summer. Johnny Blossom had turned somersaults all over the field near the house for pure joy, on his first arrival at Oxen Bay. “Just out on a little jaunt. Where did you come from?” Still, it was perfectly horrid that Tellef’s fishpole had got smashed. That was awfully bad luck. And his jacket torn, too. But how could he expect anything else when he was so horrid with his boasting and everything?.