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Zing! A sharp report and a whistle through the air by his ear told him that Miguel had caught sight of him and hoped to stop him by means of a bullet. But Bob had to go on. Again came a shot, but this time farther from him. “Rotten shooting!” panted Bob for the wind to hear. Now he was almost at his goal. He saw that there was still a length of fuse to be burned before it got to the explosive but the smoke was moving rapidly towards him. Another bullet came. He would not have time to get to the end of the fuse before it exploded. Despairing, he was almost ready to give up.,The next morning he asked her for his keys again; she gave them to him; but her hand trembled so, that he had not much difficulty in guessing what had happened.,Suppose, for instance, that he went to her house for a little call, as he often did, for Mother liked him to go—and Aunt Grenertsen sometimes had exceedingly good cakes which she called “half moons”; and just now there were these delicious ripe apples. During such calls she could be remarkably disagreeable. “What is the weather today?” she would say; and before he could answer, would add “Oh, well! No use asking you. Children never notice the weather.” Or, “What kind of fish is there nowadays at the wharf?—but you wouldn’t know that.” Or, “Who is to preach tomorrow? Well there! I wonder at my asking you.”,Next he went to the little crippled boy who had such big, mournful eyes.,“There! This lamp will do.”,“Thank you kindly, sir. It won’t be lonesome now that I have that to look at,” and his crooked finger pointed up to the little brown paper frame hanging by its red cord.,“And you came across the river on the cableway, didn’t you?”,“Wash yourself thoroughly,” she said. Oh, yes! That was what Mother always said. John showed her two red ears he had scrubbed, but she wasn’t satisfied. Oh, dear! How many bothersome crinkles and crannies there were in an ear, anyway!,“She had quite a good many—eight big beautiful apples—and six of them hadn’t the least speck of a bruise on them anywhere.”,“Do you think that will help, sir?” he asked.,“Gee whiz!” ejaculated Bob. “This is worse than anything I’ve tackled before—ever!”,“You are right, Bob. I am the chief and starting from to-day I will have to be Mr. Whitney. There is another rodman here and it would be bad for discipline if you called me by that—‘vacation’ name, let’s call it. But we had mighty good times when I was just Whiskers, didn’t we?”.