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“And that was—?” suggested Mr. Whitney. “Why don’t they shoot?” he thought. Hardly had the thought flashed through his brain when a bullet whistled by him. Then came another and another. Indeed, they wouldn’t go into the water! Oh, the horrid little goat!.

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“Seriously, Bob,” went on Jerry, “the Service is good stuff, but I haven’t the same sort of feeling about it that you have. Boss Whitney is great to work for and—and all that, but I’m not so sure that there isn’t something else to do that I would like a heap better. This forestry business, for instance. It listens good to me. Big trees, the song of the band saws, all the rest of it Link has been telling us about. And if Link would only go along—” He had not stolen apples, he really had not; but he had been taken to the police station and his name, John Blossom, was written on the police records. Though he had not stolen apples, he had known very well that Mr. Lind and his wife would be angry if boys went on board and helped themselves to apples, even if Nils had said they might. Jerry, on account of his experience, had at once been assigned to active outside work as the aid of one of the many junior assistant engineers. At night he would tell Bob of the day’s work and commiserate with him that his lot was not as exciting. But at lunch hour and after work was over for the day, Bob found a chance to investigate the outside work. It was fascinating. Along one side of the valley the river had been forced by means of a temporary dam into an artificial channel, called the spillway, so that the river bottom where the dam was to be built should be clear of water. From the river bed rose the rough foundations of the permanent dam. “What can we do?” said Bob, his tone showing his dismay. “Seems like we are in a bad fix. ‘No boat, no can go!’ as the Chinaman says.”.