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At last he passed the sluice gates which marked the center of the dam. A few rods further on he knew he must climb up and look over. “The Labyrinth. It is only about sixty miles long. But in those sixty miles there are more rapids, and bad ones, than there are in all of the Grand Canyon. Well, I reckon there isn’t much chance of my ever tackling it.” “I should like to know!” exclaimed Asta. “As heavy as he was to row!”.

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“Yes, and awfully good things to eat.” With thoughts agitated in fierce and agonizing conflict, he pursued his journey; and having lost all trace of Julia, sought only for an habitation which might shelter him from the night, and afford necessary refreshment for himself and his people. With this, however, there appeared little hope of meeting. Bob’s perch on the tower was far from comfortable, so he hoped the conference going on below him would last no great length of time. The thin iron rungs of the ladder cut into his legs and his arms had begun to ache from the strain of holding himself in place without making any noise that would give him away. To add to his discomfort, he soon realized that although he could overhear clearly every word that passed between the figures on the ground it would do him no good, as they were talking in Spanish, a language in which Bob remembered Jerry could at least make himself understood. Since his arrival at the dam, the Eastern boy had made some attempt to pick up a working knowledge of it, but his time had been so short that he had not got very far. Therefore, only a word here and there meant anything to him and as these were simple words, they gave no clue to what was being discussed. Oh, yes—it was just that that made everything worse. Johnny Blossom sat in his shirt sleeves close by the hearth, staring thoughtfully into the fire..