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Bob gasped. He was sure that the match’s usefulness was over, but feverishly, throwing caution to the winds, he rasped the head against the planking of the door. Father said it was best he should not ride in the town, but only out near Kingthorpe. Naturally, however, it was not long before the boys knew that Johnny Blossom, every single day, trotted around Kingthorpe on a beautiful horse; and of course the boys flocked out to Kingthorpe. They sat by the big pine tree and waited until Johnny Blossom came riding along. It was great fun for him when they thronged around him, exclaiming over everything, while he sat erect in the saddle, whip in hand. “Don’t bother about the oars,” said Bob, his voice echoing from the walls of the passage. “It’s too dark for ’em. Try to get a hold on the roof.”.
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JOHNNY BLOSSOM was walking home from school. He carried his head high; his turned-up, freckled nose was held proudly in the air; his cap hung on the back of his head. Both hands were in his pockets, and his loud whistling waked the echoes as he strode through Jensen Alley. Perfectly splendid monthly report! Of course he knew it, word for word, and he said it over to himself again, as he had many times. “Isn’t it my turn now, Johnny Blossom?” “Burnt, hey? Well, there’s nothing a boy won’t put into his stomach.” But evidently Jerry had used up all the words he had on tap. After some sort of unsatisfactory[40] answer he got up and moved off in silence in the aloof way he had. Bob sat still and thought over what the other had just told him. The plan of exploring this canyon which no one else had ever been able to go through fired his imagination. He wanted to try it..
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