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Feather-in-the-Wind! Perhaps the Indian would miss him and sound the alarm? Besides, Bob had asked him to look out for trouble with the Mexicans and perhaps, just perhaps, he might tell Mr. Whitney.,Two or three Sundays after they had come to the dam, Bob and Jerry found themselves with a day on their hands.,“But what difference does that make?” insisted Bob. “He ought to be glad to see the dam built!”,“All over, men. There’ll be no more trouble to-night. Our Mexicans are not mixed up in this yet and the soldiers have come to see that they don’t. They’ll be here any minute now!”,And thrill the ear with wildly-pleasing fear.,“Wouldn’t be surprised if I did,” said Link with a smile. “I’m getting a little tired of cows now. If you really want to go, Jerry, I’ll start along with you any time.”,As soon as the Indian was gone Bob started to carry out a plan of his own. He knew the Indian would not have allowed him to take the chance, so he had been forced to use a stratagem to get Feather-in-the-Wind out of the way.,“I see,” cried Bob joyously. “We’ll take ’em and surround the Greasers. Then shoot off the guns and scare ’em off! That it?”,Once upon a time there was a nobleman, who took for a second wife the haughtiest and proudest woman that had ever been seen. She had two daughters of the same temper, and who resembled her in everything. The husband, on his side, had a daughter, of unexampled gentleness and goodness. She inherited these qualities from her mother, who had been the best creature in the world.,The King gave orders that she was to be left to sleep there in quiet, until the hour of her awaking should arrive. The good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a hundred years, was in the Kingdom of Mataquin, twelve thousand leagues away, when the Princess met with her accident, but she was informed of it instantly by a little dwarf, who had a pair of seven-league boots, that is, boots which enabled the wearer to take seven leagues at a stride.,Just then Father grabbed John by the shoulder. Ugh! it was horrid when Father took hold that way, for it usually meant a whipping.,Their flight was swift, swooping something like a bird’s. From one tower the bucket would speed, only to stop silently and, almost before its crossways movement had ended, it would drop to the surface of the work. An instant to unload the bucket and in a flash it was up and gliding like the wind back to its starting point..