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“Oh, shucks,” said Jerry. “Probably the way out is hidden just like the way we’ve come. Look back. You can’t see how we got in here, can you?”,

His mind busy with these thoughts, he found that the long climb to the top did not bother him. After a wash-up he had supper and went out on the hotel piazza. The sun had gone but its last banners of light were flung up against the sky behind the farthest horizon. The depths of the Canyon were black. Out of this rose myriad pinnacles, dim in outline, rich in deep colors. Just at the opposite rim a strip of color spun along, tipping the horizon with a golden glow.,

Wasn’t there a likelihood that they were doing this to get the boy under some obligation to them? If so, it was a point against Jerry. Then, Jerry was intimate with Miguel, who undoubtedly was the leader of the dissatisfied and reckless element among the Mexican laborers. The cattlemen had no way of getting in touch with the Mexicans at the dam without being suspected of some treachery. Hence Jerry’s coming to them might possibly have been a lucky thing from their standpoint. Still all this was circumstantial and as yet Bob had no proof. But everything that happened made him more and more suspicious of Jerry’s good faith.,

But no sooner had they come into the little kitchen where Tellef’s mother was roasting coffee over an open fire than John said:

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For that was just the way the trouble began. He had been walking on his tallest stilts the whole afternoon—the stilts that were exactly, to the dot, one yard fifteen inches and a half tall—and then had sat himself on the fence along the back alley. He was facing the yard, with his back toward the alley, and that disgusting Olsen boy came past and gave him a dig in the back with that sharp stick. Just think of it! Wouldn’t anybody say it was unbearable?,

The dawn now faintly glimmered, and they surveyed the coast, but could discover no human habitation. They imagined they were on the shores of Sicily, but possessed no means of confirming this conjecture. Terror, sickness, and fatigue had subdued the strength and spirits of Julia, and she was obliged to rest upon the rocks.,

“Please, Mr. Whitney, won’t you tell me something about the Reclamation Service? Although I have read what I could, I know very little about the real spirit of it, only just figures showing what it’s done or is going to do.”,

“At first it does, but the plan is that farmers who use irrigated lands must pay a water tax which will eventually repay the Government the amount of money it has invested. On some projects the farmers have entirely repaid the Government. On others it will be years before the money is finally returned.”