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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.,

“Yes, very. We shook them into a basket. Those that were bruised, Aunt Grenertsen said we might have.”,

Madame hurried Julia, who was almost as lifeless as her departed friend, from the church. A death so sudden heightened the grief which separation would otherwise have occasioned. It was the nature of Cornelia's disorder to wear a changeful but flattering aspect. Though she had long been declining, her decay was so gradual and imperceptible as to lull the apprehensions of her friends into security. It was otherwise with herself; she was conscious of the change, but forbore to afflict them with the knowledge of the truth. The hour of her dissolution was sudden, even to herself; but it was composed, and even happy. In the death of Cornelia, Julia seemed to mourn again that of Hippolitus. Her decease appeared to dissolve the last tie which connected her with his memory.,

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“It seems to me that you fellows hit on a really excellent plan to occupy your time during the summer. Who thought of it?” he asked after examining the plot.,

During this interval, the silence of expectation sealed the lips of all present. At length the lock yielded. That door which had not been passed for so many years, creaked heavily upon its hinges, and disclosed the hall of black marble which Ferdinand had formerly crossed. 'Now,' cried the marquis, in a tone of irony as he entered, 'expect to encounter the ghosts of which you tell me; but if you fail to conquer them, prepare to quit my service. The people who live with me shall at least have courage and ability sufficient to defend me from these spiritual attacks. All I apprehend is, that the enemy will not appear, and in this case your valour will go untried.',

From where they were sitting, screened by the undergrowth, they could see a section of a rough path that led up the hillside. For a long time nothing happened. As the Indian did not speak, Bob felt it best to remain quiet also. Probably there was a reason for it. The delay did not worry him much, however, as there was plenty of material for his mind to be busy with. Ever since he had talked with Mr. Whitney, events had tumbled upon him one after another. Mr. Whitney had gone and Ted was doing outpost duty. Jerry was on the other side. Only the Indian was left to him and he was not much of a counselor. True, he was beginning to prove himself a great help but through the limitations of language he could not be used to discuss what ought to be done regarding the things they found out. What the outcome of the mess was to be was beyond Bob’s imagination to foresee. He was determined to do what he felt was his duty, and if the consequences were serious it could not be helped.,

So cleverly had Feather-in-the-Wind secreted himself at the top of the rise that Bob was about to crawl over him, thinking it was a fallen log that obstructed his path. Stifling an exclamation, he lay still. The Indian did not show any signs of annoyance that his orders had been disobeyed and when he started to wriggle into a position from which he could see the other side of the hill, by a move of the hand he invited the boy to follow.