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“No,” snapped the other. “I’m not ready. Go along yourself if you’re in such a hurry.” Then he went on with the game. 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. “Sure Mike!” said the other boy. “I’m with you.” And he stepped gingerly into the canoe. The newcomer did not seem particularly familiar with the easily capsized craft, yet Bob noted with satisfaction that he had sense enough to keep very quiet once he was aboard..
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Conrad
Johnny Blossom is not local but universal. Interest in him is not even limited to boys. When the book first appeared, a Norwegian reviewer wrote: Again it was very still. The clock struck twelve, when she arose to depart. Having embraced her faithful friend with tears of mingled grief and anxiety, she took a lamp in her hand, and with cautious, fearful steps, descended through the long winding passages to a private door, which opened into the church of the monastery. The church was gloomy and desolate; and the feeble rays of the lamp she bore, gave only light enough to discover its chilling grandeur. As she passed silently along the aisles, she cast a look of anxious examination around—but Ferdinand was no where to be seen. She paused in timid hesitation, fearful to penetrate the gloomy obscurity which lay before her, yet dreading to return. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s go to it. If we get through we’ll know what we want to know. If we—we don’t, it doesn’t make much difference, does it, old man?”.
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