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“I do. It just so happens that I can spare a few days right now. Besides, I’d like to meet the fellows you are always writing about—Tom and Ned—and see the place where you grew that big crop of corn last summer.” But Bob refused to give up hope. Too much depended on his getting free and being at the dam in time to prevent anything serious happening. Back at the door, he threw his whole weight time and time again on the boards but they held firm. This way, too, was closed to him. “Oh, New York has very little on us up here,” she said. “What with a cold storage plant and an ice factory, we don’t want for anything.”.

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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. Bob paid no attention to him. “Jerry,” he said, “is it true? If you tell me now it isn’t I’ll believe that you just got mixed up in the poker game and—and—Oh, Jerry, I can’t believe it. Please—please tell me it isn’t true.” It was not of course the sort of life he had pictured. That had been rather a vague idea of khaki-clad figures, perched with their instruments on perilous peaks and over yawning chasms; and a general idea of romance had run through his dreams. To be put into an office to do sums was little better than going to school. That his drawing board faced a window below which the job spread out, was a help, for while his mind mechanically did the figuring that was necessary, he could imagine himself out on the work mingling with the crowd. Oh, it was wonderful! wonderful! Johnny Blossom had to stand on his head in the grass, time after time—everything was so unspeakably joyful!.