"There is no greater proof of intelligence, madam, than the belief that we have it not; it is the nature of that gift, that the more we have, the more we believe ourselves to be without it.",
When he reached the edge of the river Bob slipped into the water with as little noise as possible. Keeping close to the dam he found that he could make fair headway by half swimming and half walking along the slanting boards which held the Rio Grande in check. His plan was desperate, yet it was the only one that seemed feasible. Miguel would probably set a rather long fuse, one long enough to allow him to get safely away. “If I can only get there before the fuse has burned to the first stick of dynamite!” gasped Bob to himself.,
Hardly were the words out of his mouth when more trouble ensued. The canyon broadened and instead of the river being confined in a deep, fast-flowing current, it was spread out into a shallow, dawdling stream. Several times they grounded, there was so little water covering the sand. Here and there rocks stuck above the water, and in places it was necessary to jump out and push the boat into a deeper part..
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