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Ferdinand, in escaping from the hands of the banditti, it was now seen, had fallen into the power of his father. He had been since confined in an apartment of the castle, and was now liberated to obey the summons. The countenance of the marquis exhibited a ghastly image; Ferdinand, when he drew near the bed, suddenly shrunk back, overcome with horror. The marquis now beckoned his attendants to quit the room, and they were preparing to obey, when a violent noise was heard from without; almost in the same instant the door of the apartment was thrown open, and the servant, who had been sent for the marchioness, rushed in. His look alone declared the horror of his mind, for words he had none to utter. He stared wildly, and pointed to the gallery he had quitted. Ferdinand, seized with new terror, rushed the way he pointed to the apartment of the marchioness. A spectacle of horror presented itself. Maria lay on a couch lifeless, and bathed in blood. A poignard, the instrument of her destruction, was on the floor; and it appeared from a letter which was found on the couch beside her, that she had died by her own hand. The paper contained these words: “You go down into it, then?” asked Bob. The work on the dam had gone smoothly since Mr. Whitney had taken the job over. Except for minor accidents, nothing really bothersome had happened to delay the work in any way, yet Bob, who was now constantly with the Chief, realized that something was bothering the man he was so fond of. Gone was the half chummy, half paternal air of Mr. Whitney. He was irritable and not at all himself..

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It seemed rather pleasant to John, that his singing should be heard so far. At length they reached the house where the candle was shining, not without many alarms, for often they lost sight of it altogether, and always when they went down into the hollows. They knocked loudly at the door, and a good woman came to open it. She asked them what they wanted. Little Thumbling told her they were poor children who had lost their way in the forest, and who begged a night's lodgings for charity's sake. The woman, seeing they were all so pretty, began to weep, and said to them, "Alas! my poor children, to what a place have you come! Know you not that this is the house of an ogre who eats little children?" "Alas!" replied Little Thumbling, who trembled from head to foot, as indeed did all his brothers, "what shall we do? We shall certainly be all eaten up by the wolves to-night, if you do not give us shelter, and, in that case, we would rather be eaten by the ogre; perhaps he may have pity upon us, if you are kind enough to ask him." The ogre's wife, who thought that she might be able to hide them from her husband till the next morning, let the children come in, and led them where they could warm themselves by a good fire, for there was a whole sheep on the spit, roasting for the ogre's supper. CHAPTER I “Didn’t the Denver Kid come back after you?” Bob wanted to know..