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The possibility of getting free intoxicated him and on hands and knees he searched the floor. There were other sticks. Evidently the horse thief had been given a fire and it had only been put out when he was taken away for the last time—probably to the nearest tree high enough to swing a man clear of the ground. Besides this, to Bob’s great delight, a little pile of unburnt wood was stacked in one corner. He wondered why he had not stumbled over them when he first made the circuit of the hut. “Your affectionate Johnny Blossom.” “Gee whiz, that’s some idea,” said Bob. “We can load our stuff on it and let it float down stream, can’t we?”.
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Conrad
“Did she have many apples?” THAT apple tree of Aunt Grenertsen’s was too tantalizing! Big, beautiful apples hung there day after day, and nobody ever seemed to think of such a thing as taking one off. Aunt Grenertsen might, for instance, so easily say to old Katrina, her housemaid: “Shake down an apple or two for Johnny Blossom”; but no indeed! Far from it. Never in the world had she suggested anything of the kind, although he had been in there every single day since the apples had begun to turn. “The apple boat, the one Mr. Lind and Mrs. Lind own, you know—that comes every autumn.” This news made Steve Whitney jump out of his chair. “What!” he cried. “You went through the Labyrinth? You’re joking.”.
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