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To the boys’ great joy, they found they had come out of the canyon at a point only twenty miles from the railroad. They determined to hike for it the next day. Before they started the next morning, Bob had an idea.,

Bob heard a crunching noise behind him and turned his head to find that Ted Hoyt too had been unable to stand the strain of waiting uncertain as to what was happening to his friends.,

He advanced softly to the window, and beheld in a small room, which was less decayed than the rest of the edifice, a group of men, who, from the savageness of their looks, and from their dress, appeared to be banditti. They surrounded a man who lay on the ground wounded, and bathed in blood, and who it was very evident had uttered the groans heard by the count.,

“Better not let go one hand till you get another hold!” cautioned Jerry. “It’s mighty slippery.”

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“Trouble below, Billy!” gasped Bob as he came to the shed that protected the operator from the rays of the sun. “Need the Big Boss. He’s over at the spillway. Shoot me over?”,

“If you want to play ball with us in the afternoons, you may,” said Otto.,

One morning Cornelia entering her room with a disturbed and impatient air, informed her that some emissaries from the marquis were then in the monastery, having enquired at the gate for the Abate, with whom, they said, they had business of importance to transact. The Abate had granted them immediate audience, and they were now in close conference.,

Madame hurried Julia, who was almost as lifeless as her departed friend, from the church. A death so sudden heightened the grief which separation would otherwise have occasioned. It was the nature of Cornelia's disorder to wear a changeful but flattering aspect. Though she had long been declining, her decay was so gradual and imperceptible as to lull the apprehensions of her friends into security. It was otherwise with herself; she was conscious of the change, but forbore to afflict them with the knowledge of the truth. The hour of her dissolution was sudden, even to herself; but it was composed, and even happy. In the death of Cornelia, Julia seemed to mourn again that of Hippolitus. Her decease appeared to dissolve the last tie which connected her with his memory.