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When he came to the surface, Bob’s first sensation was one of extreme weariness. So spent was he that it was all he could do to keep himself afloat. The possibility of another shot from Miguel did not spur him to dodging in the water. If the shot was to come, it would. Bob knew that he was alive, therefore the danger which threatened the dam was over. This being the case, a great contentment came to him—what could happen to him now mattered very little. “You shall soon see whether I dare or not,” returned Johnny. “He’s a bad egg,” was the comment of Tim Flannigan, the engineer of the dinky that pulled the rock cars from the quarry to the crusher. “He’s all the time startin’ somethin’ down to the Townsite. He’s got a game cock that nobody kin lick, and the marshal has had him up several times for gambling. Tried to run him out of camp a bit back but such a gang of Greasers threatened to leave with him that Boss Adams, who was here before Boss Whitney came, told the marshal to keep a close eye on him and let it go at that.”.
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Conrad
“Here, you men, down stream a bit with that timber. Rutherford, you’ve the right idea—stick to it. Rush ’em up, boys,” to a gang bringing up a supply of planks. “Have you diverted any of the water, Rutherford?” Suddenly the still and silent air was rent by a noise that has no equal in the world. It was the blood-curdling war whoop of an Indian. Coming so close to their ears, although they had been expecting it, the boys nearly jumped out of their skins with terror. See! in the darkened air their fiery course! But Bob was too much in earnest to take the last remark seriously. He laughed. “Oh, I’m a tenderfoot all right but I know something about paddling a canoe. Had a lot of it last summer and I can swim. And if it is not too expensive, I’ve got the money. Any other objections?”.
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