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There was something else he wished to ask, but he scarcely liked to—perhaps it was silly. Well, he could ask Mother about it, though he wouldn’t ask any one else in the whole world. “How the dickens do you happen to know that?” he would exclaim. This time the answer was no—once was enough. So Bob, determined to get as much fun as possible out of his enforced stay at the Canyon, started out alone and joined the group of tourists in front of the hotel. They were already preparing to make the descent. He decided to walk rather than trust to one of the funny fat little mules which were provided for the visitors who were too stout or too lazy to use the means of locomotion given them by nature..

He obeyed, talking whimsically to his pets as he went.I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was “That’s good enough for me, then,” he said, sleepily. And no one ever heard him mention again his unexpected addition to the scene.

Finally something was said which was more than the redman could stand. He got up and in a dignified manner moved to the spot where his tormentors were sitting. He spoke to them in Spanish. From a distance came the rattle of gunshots. This started a new train of thought. Why had Jerry been foolish enough to show himself in the Quarter-house? Nothing could be gained by it. Could it be that he had come to warn Bob of the impending danger to the dam and consequently to himself? Perhaps the memory of the dangers they had shared and overcome in the Labyrinth had stirred him to a moment of remorse and a desire to see his chum safe. This seemed the most likely explanation but further thought was impossible, for Feather-in-the-Wind was ready to start. As he was revolving these things in his mind they came to an opening in the thick brush. It lay right on the edge of the river, close to which they had been traveling. Evidently it was the place that had been decided upon as his prison, for, almost screened by the encroaching scrub oaks, was an adobe hut. Bob could not imagine what it had been used for. As they approached it in the gathering gloom of night, it did not seem to have any opening except a door. No windows were visible from the direction in which they came and Bob doubted if there were any on the other side..