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A long time Johnny lay there and all the while the sound of talk and laughter floated up to him, so he knew that the picnic party must still be on the wharf. The wind began to blow harder; it blew colder, too, horridly cold in fact, and he felt almost frozen. Shivering and with his teeth chattering, he crept back a little way toward the wharf and gazed down from behind a tree trunk.,“All right then, Jerry,” was Mr. Whitney’s decision. “I’ll leave it to you and Feather-in-the-Wind to do with him as you like.”,They had pursued for some time the way which they judged led to the monastery, when the note of the bell returned upon the wind, and discovered to them that they had mistaken their route. After much wandering and difficulty they arrived, overcome with weariness, at the gates of a large and gloomy fabric. The bell had ceased, and all was still. By the moonlight, which through broken clouds now streamed upon the building, they became convinced it was the monastery they had sought, and the duke himself struck loudly upon the gate.,Johnny did not see anything to laugh at, yet they laughed harder than ever.,“Yes, there goes a steamer to the east, and a beautiful boat lies right near here, and far out there is sail after sail.”,This time a crash, a splintering of the wood was the result. Once more he dived into it and the next moment he was in the gray air of the early dawn.,Without malice, or temper, the same,,As far as the eye could reach, the great chasm extended. In it rose pinnacles, spires and mountain ranges, alternating with deep valleys and gulches. At the very bottom wound a tiny thread of silver, the Colorado River, for whose passage nature had undertaken such a gigantic task and, in its accomplishment, had created such beauty.,Bob paid no attention to this outburst, letting it go past his ears. Wesley’s voice from behind took up the refrain.,At the name of Vincent Julia started; the doubtful words he had uttered on his deathbed were now explained—the cloud of mystery which had so long involved the southern buildings broke at once away: and each particular circumstance that had excited her former terror, arose to her view entirely unveiled by the words of the marchioness.—The long and total desertion of this part of the fabric—the light that had appeared through the casement—the figure she had seen issue from the tower—the midnight noises she had heard—were circumstances evidently dependant on the imprisonment of the marchioness; the latter of which incidents were produced either by Vincent, or the marquis, in their attendance upon her.,“What was the scheme the cattlemen had decided upon?” Whitney wanted to know.,As Julia mused through the walks, and surveyed this vast monument of barbarous superstition, it brought to her recollection an ode which she often repeated with melancholy pleasure, as the composition of Hippolitus..