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Of solemn musing, and of vision wild!,

While everybody was occupied with the pleasures of the hunt, she gave rein to her horses, encouraged them with voice and whip, and soon their quickened pace became a gallop; then, taking the bit between their teeth, they flew along at such a speed, that the chariot seemed borne by the winds, and the eye could scarcely follow it. Too late the poor Queen repented of her rashness: "What could I have been thinking of?" she said. "How could I have imagined that I should be able to control such wild and fiery horses? Alas! what will become of me? What would the King do if he knew the great danger I am in, he who loves me so dearly, and who only sent me away that I might be in greater safety! This is my gratitude for his tender care!" The air resounded with her piteous lamentations; she invoked Heaven, she called the fairies to her assistance, but it seemed that all the powers had abandoned her. The chariot was overthrown; she had not sufficient strength to jump quickly enough to the ground, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree; it was only by a miracle she was saved.,

“I go myself trail Miguel. I catch his track and run swiftly. Big moon help much. Pretty soon I see little light just below big dam in bushes.”,

Bob shook the sleep out of his eyes and hustled into his clothes. When he came downstairs with Jerry he found that Mr. Whitney had already finished his breakfast and had gone out. So he and Jerry had theirs. During the meal Bob tried again to draw his new comrade out, but the same unwillingness to talk possessed Jerry. Bob rather wondered what was the matter. He had not been used to meeting with such reserve. He remembered also that during the conversation on the porch the night before Jerry had spoken hardly a word but sat in his chair motionless. At last, giving it up as a bad job, he finished his meal in silence. Steve Whitney met them in the lobby.

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“You bet,” was the heartfelt answer. “I thought you were a goner sure. But where is the boat?”,

At the very depth of the Canyon Bob suddenly realized what the Reclamation Service had to contend with. It was places like this which needed feats of engineering skill to let people even get near to them, that the Service had to contend with. Nature was the Service’s foe. Its task was to subjugate her to its own ends. Of course this Canyon was too big; the desert land was too far away for any irrigation project to be thought of.,

“You wild youngsters! If ever I saw your equal!” he grumbled behind his red-brown beard. “Sit still, I tell you!”,

“He no more make trouble,” put in the Indian gravely. “He scared too much. I take him border. He no come back.”