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“Not yet,” was the crisp reply, “but Mr. Taylor wants to see you. Jerry King didn’t show up to-day either and he’s worried.” 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. Cease your ruin! spectres dire!.

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“I crawl up. Much big talk. Miguel talk much. Think want Greasers start trouble. Greaser leader say no start trouble till Miguel get Greasers here start trouble too. Pretty soon Miguel he start back towards camp. But much afraid you tell ’bout dynamite dam and people watch for him. He go slow. I run behind. Catch—” “No,” said Jerry. “Mr. Rutherford, my chief, wants him. Wall of auxiliary spillway this side of the river giving way—will flood all the buttress excavation. We’re shoring it, but Mr. Rutherford wants the Chief and in a hurry. I’m off but I’m afraid I’ll get him too late! If he calls up send him to Mr. Rutherford at once!” With this Jerry shot out of the office and down the hill, evidently planning to make his legs take him to the Chief. Then some one lifted Johnny Blossom up. He was warm and red, but beaming. “Come soon again, everybody!” he called out. As he pondered his problem, his fingers had been playing with the loose button that had been in his pocket, and now it slipped from his hand and rolled off on the dirt floor toward the center of the room. Rather aimlessly, he reached out and groped for it. As his hand swept the floor it came in contact with a fine, floury substance. “Ashes,” was his thought. An inch or so farther and he gripped an object that he felt to be a half burned stick of wood..