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“The town,” was the answer; “the mechanics’ houses and the bunk houses for the Mexican laborers. The only people who live up here on the hill are the engineers and executives.”,“Oh, well! See here. I’ll lend ye my blouse. Put it on and run down fer yer clo’es.”,Johnny Blossom could think of nothing more to write about, though he stared long and hard at the walls. His examination report? No, he would not write about that, for there were some 9’s for conduct and some marks for lessons that were not as high as one might wish. No, there was not an atom more to write. So the letter was signed:,“Hello, Link,” said Jerry. “I didn’t bring Bob up only to show him the ranch, but to let you give him a square meal for once. If you’ve still got Sing Lee properly trained he’ll get it!”,“But we weren’t at the Canyon,” put in Bob.,“I am not a specimen. I am Johnny Blossom.”,He bounced back, not knowing that his clothes were afire in several places. Instinctively he charged again.,Wasn’t there something else he could sell so that Grandmother should see the ocean and everything again? Oh, of course—all those books about Indians; they must be worth a good deal and he had at least twelve of them. And his collection of eggs! Why, yes! They were perfectly beautiful eggs, and rare, many of them. To be sure almost every one was broken a little on one side. That didn’t matter a bit when they were placed nicely in a box, but perhaps people who bought eggs would rather have them whole. Well, the fishing rod was valuable, anyway.,“I don’t know,” hesitated the other after a pause. “I reckon it’s mighty kiddish of me but—but I just can’t help it.”,Absolute silence again. If only the cuckoo in the clock would come out and call! But it would be almost a quarter of an hour before that would happen. Johnny Blossom racked his brain to think of something to talk about.,“And I’m going to be on your own corps? This is too much,” and the boy laughed happily.,After his coat, Bob ripped off his flannel shirt and tore it down a seam. Then, with the greatest care, he began to unravel the threads that made up the fabric. The loose threads would burn when the cloth itself would only go out. Before he had a pile of threads that he felt would be sufficient for his purpose, his fingers ached and his nails were bleeding..