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“Like shooting the chutes, isn’t it?” said Bob, putting his feeling into words as soon as he could speak. “Great sport!”,"Grandmother, what long ears you have!",The first thing was to examine his prison. There might be an opening that had been overlooked. Bob started from the door and felt every inch of the wall within his reach. His fingers had to do duty for his eyes, as by this time night had fallen and the interior of the hut was pitch dark. Not even a ray of moonlight came through the cracks in the door. In this slow fashion he made the circuit of the room without finding even a crack in the dried clay.,A browner shadow spreads upon the air,,“The boy is crazy,” said Olea, knitting on in unbroken calm.,“What did you give him, little John?”,As they rode along Bob ignored Jerry’s evident irritation, knowing that it was caused by his forced presence. He talked about a thousand things. Jerry tried to answer in a light and casual manner but he made a rather bad attempt at it.,“You will come back,” he said. “You have smelt desert. You have helped build. You come back. I know. Feather-in-the-Wind will wait. Will be glad when you come. Adios!”,Round the old tree.,He was done, spent for the moment, but the will power which had driven him on and on roused him. He had done this much, he must do the rest even though every muscle in his body rebelled. He dragged the lifeless form of his friend entirely out of the water and managed to lay him face downward over a round rock, letting his head lie low. Then Bob flung himself on Jerry and tried with the weight of his own body to force the water out of the other’s lungs. Only a little success rewarded this maneuver. Next Bob let the other’s limp body roll off onto the ground and, sitting astride of it, worked his chum’s arms up and down to induce breathing. There was no response.,For a moment or two this helped, for he was able to breathe, but soon the smoke was everywhere and Bob knew that he would have to move.,“What is it?” demanded the boy..