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Soon after leaving civilization the river broadened out into a shallow slow-moving stream. Bob lay back in the canoe and merely paddled sufficiently to steer it, letting the lazy current carry him slowly along. Close to the river bank everything was green and fresh looking, but this vegetation did not extend so far that Bob could not see where the green left off and the desert began.,

“Come on back next summer,” cried Ted Hoyt, who had been given a few minutes from his work to bid his friend good-bye. “And perhaps I’ll go East with you afterwards. My father says he might let me if I’m still so loco about it!”,

Suppose, for instance, that he went to her house for a little call, as he often did, for Mother liked him to go—and Aunt Grenertsen sometimes had exceedingly good cakes which she called “half moons”; and just now there were these delicious ripe apples. During such calls she could be remarkably disagreeable. “What is the weather today?” she would say; and before he could answer, would add “Oh, well! No use asking you. Children never notice the weather.” Or, “What kind of fish is there nowadays at the wharf?—but you wouldn’t know that.” Or, “Who is to preach tomorrow? Well there! I wonder at my asking you.”,

The Abate was alone. His countenance was pale with anger, and he was pacing the room with slow but agitated steps. The stern authority of his look startled her. 'Read this letter,' said he, stretching forth his hand which held a letter, 'and tell me what that mortal deserves, who dares insult our holy order, and set our sacred prerogative at defiance.' Madame distinguished the handwriting of the marquis, and the words of the Superior threw her into the utmost astonishment. She took the letter. It was dictated by that spirit of proud vindictive rage, which so strongly marked the character of the marquis. Having discovered the retreat of Julia, and believing the monastery afforded her a willing sanctuary from his pursuit, he accused the Abate of encouraging his child in open rebellion to his will. He loaded him and his sacred order with opprobrium, and threatened, if she was not immediately resigned to the emissaries in waiting, he would in person lead on a force which should compel the church to yield to the superior authority of the father.

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The Count with difficulty concealed his terrible apprehensions for Ferdinand, and vainly strove to soften Julia's distress. But there was no time to be lost—they had yet to find a way out of the edifice, and before they could accomplish this, the banditti might return. It was also possible that some of the party were left to watch this their abode during the absence of the rest, and this was another circumstance of reasonable alarm.,

"Who is there?" Little Red Riding-Hood was frightened at first, on hearing the Wolf's gruff voice, but thinking that her grandmother had a cold, she answered,—,

“The writing might have been nicer, too,” said Johnny apologetically, “but I had such a scratchy, bad pen.”,

The menaces, and at length entreaties of the duke, to prevail with his son to abandon his present way of life, were equally ineffectual. Secure in his own power, Riccardo laughed at the first, and was insensible to the latter; and his father was compelled to relinquish the attempt. The duke, however, boldly and passionately accused him of having plundered and secreted a lady and cavalier, his friends, at the same time describing Julia, for whose liberation he offered large rewards. Riccardo denied the fact, which so much exasperated the duke, that he drew his sword with an intention of plunging it in the breast of his son. His arm was arrested by the surrounding banditti, who half unsheathed their swords, and stood suspended in an attitude of menace. The fate of the father now hung upon the voice of the son. Riccardo raised his arm, but instantly dropped it, and turned away. The banditti sheathed their weapons, and stepped back.