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But Bob was too much in earnest to take the last remark seriously. He laughed. “Oh, I’m a tenderfoot all right but I know something about paddling a canoe. Had a lot of it last summer and I can swim. And if it is not too expensive, I’ve got the money. Any other objections?”,

Coming back from the job one night, he saw a strange yet familiar figure sitting on the porch of the Quarter-house. When he got near enough to see he started on the run towards the building.,

“Now you see what silly nincompoops you are—never believing a single thing I tell you.”,

Bob had to admit this was so. “Maybe you’re right. Anyhow, it’s so dark we can’t tell for certain. I think we’d better get ashore somewheres and make camp. We’ll find out about it in the morning.”

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In the cool water, Bob soon forgot his hurts. Coming out on the shore he took stock of the damage that had been done. His hands were sore and stinging sensations from different parts of his body told him that he had not come off scot-free. Such clothes as he had on were ruined and he knew that in all probability he was such a sight that his own father would not have recognized him if they had met face to face.,

He returned to the room where he had passed the night, and finding there a great quantity of gold pieces, he filled the trunk, of which the Beast had spoken, with these, closed it, and remounting his horse, which he found still in the stable, he rode out from the castle, his sadness now as great as had been his joy on entering it. His horse carried him of its own accord along one of the roads through the forest, and in a few hours the merchant was again in his own little house.,

Not until the bucket had reached the height of the cableway was he able to take any interest in looking about him. The second or so that had elapsed since he had taken passage on the concrete conveyor had been fully occupied in putting himself in a position where he could hold on and not be in danger of being tipped over the side. Worming himself around he found he could seat himself comfortably in the hook that held the bucket and clasp his arms around the great iron ball that hung just under the many sheaved pulley.,

Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair.