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It was morning when he landed at a small port of Sicily, and proceeded towards the abbey of St Augustin. As he travelled, his imagination revolved the scenes of his early love, the distress of Julia, and the sufferings of Ferdinand, and his heart melted at the retrospect. He considered the probabilities of Julia having found protection from her father in the pity of the Padre Abate; and even ventured to indulge himself in a flattering, fond anticipation of the moment when Julia should again be restored to his sight.,

“Yes,” he said slowly, “it looks possible to me. Better’n that, Bob, it looks mighty lucky. Nature has given us a big help if it turns out that it is possible.”,

“Oh, I went to the Mexican bunkhouses and told Miguel’s bunch that he’d sent me to tell ’em to meet him somewheres up the river. I sent ’em just as far away as I could from the place trouble was likely to happen without letting ’em get suspicious. They slipped out one at a time before you doubled the guards, Mr. Taylor,” he finished with a smile.,

“Yes, you surely must have one.”

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Suddenly Bob remembered that he had left his job in the office without anybody’s authority. The excitement had made him forget that he had a job. Now, when everything was quiet, the realization that probably he had been missed came to him and he started to make tracks in the general direction of the office. He had not gone far, however, when he heard a familiar voice hail him from behind. It was Mr. Whitney, so he slowed up and turned.,

“Was it a close shave?” he asked as Bob sat up.,

Bob’s perch on the tower was far from comfortable, so he hoped the conference going on below him would last no great length of time. The thin iron rungs of the ladder cut into his legs and his arms had begun to ache from the strain of holding himself in place without making any noise that would give him away. To add to his discomfort, he soon realized that although he could overhear clearly every word that passed between the figures on the ground it would do him no good, as they were talking in Spanish, a language in which Bob remembered Jerry could at least make himself understood. Since his arrival at the dam, the Eastern boy had made some attempt to pick up a working knowledge of it, but his time had been so short that he had not got very far. Therefore, only a word here and there meant anything to him and as these were simple words, they gave no clue to what was being discussed.,

“It was just that stupid Tellef Olsen. He bragged so much about being the strongest of all the boys”—