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"If I must die," she replied, looking at him with streaming eyes, "give me a little time to say my prayers." In the tiny bedroom in town Johnny Blossom laid his brown head on the pillow. “Thank you, dear God, thank you, thank you,” he murmured, and said no more, for he was overpowered by sleep. Johnny Blossom is not local but universal. Interest in him is not even limited to boys. When the book first appeared, a Norwegian reviewer wrote:.

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“After you’ve carried one for about five years you won’t think it so interesting,” returned Jerry, suddenly remembering that he was a grouch. There was very little more chance for conversation, as they were rapidly approaching a low, adobe house surrounded by outbuildings which were evidently stables and laborers’ houses. When they galloped in they were hailed by a bunch of cowboys who were perched on the corral fence. Jerry answered them with a shout and waved his hand but continued to lead the way to the main building. On the porch two men were sitting in chairs tilted up against the wall. Jerry introduced Bob to them. 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: “I don’t care where you’re going,” said Bob laughing. “We’ll go exploring, like we did at the Labyrinth.”.