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“It will be your turn next,” said Bob as they turned off the light.,

They found something to eat and water to wash in and felt ten times better.,

From where they were sitting, screened by the undergrowth, they could see a section of a rough path that led up the hillside. For a long time nothing happened. As the Indian did not speak, Bob felt it best to remain quiet also. Probably there was a reason for it. The delay did not worry him much, however, as there was plenty of material for his mind to be busy with. Ever since he had talked with Mr. Whitney, events had tumbled upon him one after another. Mr. Whitney had gone and Ted was doing outpost duty. Jerry was on the other side. Only the Indian was left to him and he was not much of a counselor. True, he was beginning to prove himself a great help but through the limitations of language he could not be used to discuss what ought to be done regarding the things they found out. What the outcome of the mess was to be was beyond Bob’s imagination to foresee. He was determined to do what he felt was his duty, and if the consequences were serious it could not be helped.,

At the abbey, solitude and stillness conspired with the solemn aspect of the pile to impress the mind with religious awe. The dim glass of the high-arched windows, stained with the colouring of monkish fictions, and shaded by the thick trees that environed the edifice, spread around a sacred gloom, which inspired the beholder with congenial feelings.

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One day Otto Holm proposed that they should see who could ride most quickly over a certain distance. Otto, who of course had a watch, should manage the starting; and Peter Prytz should be timekeeper at the turning point; and the time was to be kept strictly, even to the seconds, exactly as in real races. They all thought Otto’s idea a fine one, but again they said to Johnny, “Now don’t go and tattle about this at home, for then all the fun would be over.”,

The foreman was so surprised that involuntarily his hand made the signal and a second later Bob was climbing through space, faster than a rocket!,

“But that’s not like having someone you belong to!” cried Jerry. “The Boss is all right but he isn’t a family. Why, the first thing I remember is selling papers in the Loop back in Chicago when I was hardly big enough to walk, and getting licked when I got home because I didn’t bring in enough pennies. Home!” the boy’s voice broke on the word. “It wasn’t a home!”,

When the men got their cigars lighted they began to talk. Whitney was of course anxious to know what the situation was on the job he was to tackle in the morning. If the laborers were satisfied, how the work was progressing, and a thousand and one other things he needed to know bubbled forth. The assistant engineer was a veritable mine of information. Practically every question was answered without a moment’s hesitation. Bob was contented to sit and listen, drinking in all the information he could. This was the Reclamation Service and to-morrow would see him taking an active part in the work.