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For several hours the boys fished with more or less success, and during this time Bob learned a lot about his new friend. His name was Ted Hoyt and he had never been farther away from home than Las Cruces. He had had some schooling and the coming of the Reclamation Service had fired him with an ambition to rise higher in the world than was promised by the education he had received. The boys grew very chummy and it was when they were eating their lunches that Bob finally made up his mind to side actively with his new-found friend. “He’ll have to hike some,” thought Bob, “if he’s going to get back to Rutherford to-night.” Then he turned his attention to the Greaser, who had not moved out of the sprawling position he was in. The ache in Bob’s muscles became almost unbearable. When the Mexican rolled and lit another cigarette as if he expected to stay where he was all night, he was almost tempted to drop off the ladder and let the worst happen. “Yes, indeed, that’s a fine piece of work!”.
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Conrad
What a shame, what a shame that he should be the poorest rider of all! On the way back he whipped Bob so that the horse finally ran, puffing, coughing, and stumbling along. Dead silence for a long time. The mind of Ferdinand was highly superior to the general influence of superstition; but, in the present instance, such strong correlative circumstances appeared, as compelled even incredulity to yield. He had himself heard strange and awful sounds in the forsaken southern buildings; he received from his father a dreadful secret relative to them—a secret in which his honor, nay even his life, was bound up. His father had also confessed, that he had himself there seen appearances which he could never after remember without horror, and which had occasioned him to quit that part of the castle. All these recollections presented to Ferdinand a chain of evidence too powerful to be resisted; and he could not doubt that the spirit of the dead had for once been permitted to revisit the earth, and to call down vengeance on the descendants of the murderer. The Wolf, I say here, for you'll find.
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