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The note of sadness in the latter part of Jerry’s remark struck sharply on Bob’s ears. It flashed on him that there was possibly a reason for his comrade’s fits of silence and grouchiness. This might very well be mixed up with his former life. He made an effort to find out.,The path leading down from the woods was so rough and steep that people never liked to walk on it; and no boats were kept at this wharf except the sail-boat belonging to a merchant from the city. The merchant’s boat was an unusually beautiful one. It was painted a dazzling white and had “Sea Mew” in golden letters on one side of it.,At home that day they had been baking the Christmas cakes. Johnny Blossom had eaten not a little of the raw dough, and his sister Asta and he had made some cakes of remarkable shapes (though rather dingy from much handling), which they were allowed to bake.,Kingthorpe was quiet and stately and a little awe-inspiring as usual. Miss Melling had gone to town and Uncle Isaac was ill in bed. After a little thought, Johnny Blossom sent the frame in to his uncle by the servant, with his best Christmas wishes. The servant was in livery and always carried a silver tray in his hand. Even when Uncle Isaac had nothing but gruel, he had it on a silver tray!,Aunt Grenertsen opened the box.,“Because—because his name has been written in the police records today, and the policeman took him there, and so it was horrid that this report should say he was a credit”—,A plan had come to him in a flash. Whitney was needed and needed in a hurry. He was on the other side of the river valley at the head of the spillway. The opposite cableway tower over there was near this spot—if the buckets could go over, couldn’t he? He’d try anyway!,It really looked very pretty hanging there on the wall.,His mind busy with these thoughts, he found that the long climb to the top did not bother him. After a wash-up he had supper and went out on the hotel piazza. The sun had gone but its last banners of light were flung up against the sky behind the farthest horizon. The depths of the Canyon were black. Out of this rose myriad pinnacles, dim in outline, rich in deep colors. Just at the opposite rim a strip of color spun along, tipping the horizon with a golden glow.,“The Greasers making a stand, I reckon,” was Ted Hoyt’s comment. “Probably a regular battle.”,“Thought I would,” answered Jerry shortly, but halting.,They were coming all right. But for the time he was holding his own and even doing a little better. They had raced their horses from the ranch in their endeavor to catch up with him, while he had only ambled along over the same distance. He exulted as he realized the distance was rapidly growing greater between them..