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“Oh, it’s a Mozambique stamp, Aunt Grenertsen,” explained Johnny Blossom earnestly. “It is awfully rare. There isn’t another one in the whole town, Aunt Grenertsen.”,But before Bob’s mind had accepted the fact that a Greaser was sitting up here in the moonlight, instead of gambling or watching a cock fight down in the Townsite, a crackling in the underbrush to the right caught his attention. A moment later a figure stepped out into the clearing. To his dismay, he recognized the approaching man.,The new postmaster’s sons were at the bottom of it really. Such pipestems from Christiania don’t know anything anyway—and they get scared so easily! That’s why they lose their wits when they get into trouble. No one would believe how silly they were! Still, they were good-natured and ready to join in anything, so they were jolly enough playfellows after all.,Tint following tint each dark'ning object veils,,“Long? It seems to me you were here only last week.”,“Feather-in-the-Wind is watching Boss Bob,” he said quietly. “Greasers in show last night make big talk. Swear much. They hurt you because you help me. When you go out I follow. Now I go home with you.”,“What did they say?” asked Bob, quickly.,A way of overcoming this obstacle came to Bob. Without wasting any more time talking he rushed down to the concrete shed to get there just as the loading gang had finished changing the great hook of the cableway from the empty bucket to a full one. The foreman had his hand raised to signal Billy to hoist away when Bob darted in and jumped onto the bucket.,In the lofty, echoing rooms everything had been left undisturbed: the furniture with its silken upholstery, the mirrors reaching from floor to ceiling, the great paintings that filled the walls, and the art treasures, gathered from every corner of the world. Many of these tapestries and vases and statues were extremely rare, but to Johnny Blossom they were only queer, especially a certain Indian idol with an ugly face made of gold. Why should any one want that?,Under the moon the town lay quiet, only a lighted window here and there to tell that it was inhabited. Around the machinery and on the dam itself tiny shadows moved to show that the watchmen were not sleeping. Just before they reached the Quarter-house, a horse and rider galloped up the hill. Bob recognized Jenkins and stopped him.,“In his office.”,Beneath her sober, chasten'd reign..