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Johnny Blossom bowed low as he entered.,And catch the dying gale that swells remote,,“No, sir, and I haven’t any idea what they’ll do. Anything is likely to happen!”,“Yes. Perfectly sure.”,Truth now glimmered upon the mind of Julia, but so faintly, that instead of enlightening, it served only to increase her perplexity.,The Mexican worked swiftly and at last he had his infernal machine ready. Straightening up, he carried it to the coffer dam and began laying the dynamite sticks at equal intervals along the bank. This dam was constructed of timber backed up by refuse material from the crusher and the excavation. It was neither high nor wide at this time as it only served to divert the ordinary flow of the Rio Grande. It had not been destined to cope with any flood, should one come, as the engineering plan was to get the dam in such shape as to withstand a freshet before the rainy season came on. But the dynamite the Mexican was laying was sufficient to wreck what had been built, and, should the water be released, it would undo thousands of dollars worth of work at the main dam, besides the delay caused by the rebuilding.,“Yes”—sob, sob—“my clothes are down on the wharf and the ladies are sitting there eating and laughing and—boo-hoo-hoo!”,She boldly asserted her innocence, and instantly invented a story, the plausibility of which might have deceived a man who had evidence less certain than his senses to contradict it. She behaved with a haughtiness the most insolent; and when she perceived that the marquis was no longer to be misled, and that her violence failed to accomplish its purpose, she had recourse to tears and supplications. But the artifice was too glaring to succeed; and the marquis quitted her apartment in an agony of resentment.,“Did she? And how many did Aunt Grenertsen get?”,“Yes; Greasers much excited. One man make bad medicine. He Miguel. They plan big strike—no more work. To-day came news much killing on border. Miguel tell ’em Gringo all scared. They keep quiet, then capture dam.”,When the fight ended in this fashion, the Indian drew himself up to his full height and with a scornful look on his face turned and walked out of the theatre. Bob followed and on the street found the man he had helped waiting for him.,Then, as suddenly as the hope had come, it fled. Possibly Mr. Whitney had not come back! Feather-in-the-Wind alone would be no use! He must get out himself!.