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Johnny Blossom’s room was a very tiny one, under the slope of the roof, but small as it was, he could never keep it in order. The rug before the bed was always in a heap; and papers, skates, bows and arrows, and boots and shoes were strewn over the floor. There was a little space on the table and the commode, but on the floor you could scarcely find a bare spot. “Yes, Aunt Grenertsen. I’ll go right up now, this minute.” “I don’t care where you’re going,” said Bob laughing. “We’ll go exploring, like we did at the Labyrinth.”.

“Yes, that’s wet,” admitted Johnny Blossom.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 “Right you are, Whisk—I mean, Mr. Whitney,” Bob answered in some confusion. “I suppose you’ll have to be Mister Whitney now since you are the Big Boss. Last summer you were the fellow who was so good to us kids and we took liberties.”

The moon now rose, and afforded them a shadowy imperfect view of the surrounding objects. The prospect was gloomy and vast, and not a human habitation met their eyes. They had now lost every trace of the fugitives, and found themselves bewildered in a wild and savage country. Their only remaining care was to extricate themselves from so forlorn a situation, and they listened at every step with anxious attention for some sound that might discover to them the haunts of men. They listened in vain; the stillness of night was undisturbed but by the wind, which broke at intervals in low and hollow murmurs from among the mountains. Seldom, indeed, did he have the honor of riding in the Kingthorpe carriage, because Carlstrom and Miss Melling were both so fussy, and poor Uncle Isaac never went to drive. As they rode along Miss Melling showed Johnny how to put the rod together. My, oh, my! How amazingly long it was! Johnny stood it up like a flagstaff and his face was radiant. “I’d like that,” he said one day as the trio were loafing away the afternoon in the shade of Holman’s bunkhouse, “and I think I’ll drift up that way and tackle it.” “At the Canyon?” asked Mr. Whitney. “I don’t see how you could. It is a pretty dreary place, if you have to be there long.”.