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“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.”,

Bob laughed, “We get enough to do week days on the dam to get up a pretty good appetite. But I won’t deny that I’ll be ready when the dinner bell rings. We’ve got a Mexican cook where we grub and he’s a lot better on quantity than quality.”,

A way of overcoming this obstacle came to Bob. Without wasting any more time talking he rushed down to the concrete shed to get there just as the loading gang had finished changing the great hook of the cableway from the empty bucket to a full one. The foreman had his hand raised to signal Billy to hoist away when Bob darted in and jumped onto the bucket.,

CHAPTER V The Red Buoy

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The marquis was now not suffered to doubt her infidelity, but the passion which her conduct abused, her faithlessness could not subdue; he still doated with absurd fondness, and even regretted that uncertainty could no longer flatter him with hope. It seemed as if his desire of her affection increased with his knowledge of the loss of it; and the very circumstance which should have roused his aversion, by a strange perversity of disposition, appeared to heighten his passion, and to make him think it impossible he could exist without her.,

Mr. Hazard was as good as his word. The same night found him installed in the colonial house from which the great plantation of Crossways had formerly been managed. Now the plantation was a thing of memory only. Only the house and comparatively few cultivated acres remained of the once proud estate. Edward Moseley, the last of a long line, kept a school, which, primarily started for the benefit of his tenants’ children, had become so famous that boys from all parts of the country were now enrolled.,

At last he slipped out of the bunkhouse, went up and said good-bye to his host and rode off in the direction of home. In all probability Jerry would not come home until late.,

The father paused—his eyes sternly fixed on Julia, who, pale and trembling, could scarcely support herself, and who had no power to reply. 'I will be merciful, and not just,' resumed he,—'I will soften the punishment you deserve, and will only deliver you to your father.' At these dreadful words, Julia bursting into tears, sunk at the feet of the Abate, to whom she raised her eyes in supplicating expression, but was unable to speak. He suffered her to remain in this posture. 'Your duplicity,' he resumed, 'is not the least of your offences.—Had you relied upon our generosity for forgiveness and protection, an indulgence might have been granted;—but under the disguise of virtue you concealed your crimes, and your necessities were hid beneath the mask of devotion.'