crossing road game

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“Going up river again to-day, Jerry?” asked Bob.,

“Light transit,” said Jerry. “We will need it to make sure that a road into the canyon is possible. What might seem quite possible to the eye, is often no use at all. I thought we’d better make sure.”,

Jerry, however, bent to his oars, betraying his emotion only by the gleam of his eyes. No more rapids of any consequence hindered their way the remainder of the afternoon. It was not until well along the next morning that they came again to anything which really could be called dangerous.,

And spread the blast of Desolation wide.

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“This is the plan. You go back home and say you are sick of engineering—that riding range is good enough for you. If you do that your father will be likely to take you back, won’t he?”,

In turning up the ground of the cell, it was discovered that it communicated with the dungeon in which Ferdinand had been confined, and where he had heard those groans which had occasioned him so much terror.,

Inside, Bob had been listening with wide open ears and his mind pictured the scene Jerry had left to find Mr. Whitney and filled out the holes the winded boy had left in his description. He knew the auxiliary spillway and the harm it could do if it should fail to carry its burden. It was a temporary affair of wood to be used only until a system of drains could be built to take care of the excess water that collected below the coffer dam. His mind’s eye saw Rutherford and Jerry at the dangerous place: Rutherford, young and inexperienced, doing what he could to avert disaster, but rattled, probably badly so. He wanted Mr. Whitney or somebody with practical knowledge and he had sent Jerry off to bring help. All Bob could do was to hope that the wall would hold.,

As he was revolving these things in his mind they came to an opening in the thick brush. It lay right on the edge of the river, close to which they had been traveling. Evidently it was the place that had been decided upon as his prison, for, almost screened by the encroaching scrub oaks, was an adobe hut. Bob could not imagine what it had been used for. As they approached it in the gathering gloom of night, it did not seem to have any opening except a door. No windows were visible from the direction in which they came and Bob doubted if there were any on the other side.