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Jerry was first awake in the morning. He roused Bob but not until he had a fire going and the coffee-pot singing merrily. Bob got up and, slipping off his clothes, dived into the river. The water was cold but not unpleasantly so. Jerry looked at him for a minute and laughed as he came out dripping. “Perhaps I can poke her out with a stick,” suggested Johnny. But not a stick could they find, though they looked all around. In the sail-boat, however, there was the finest kind of a boat-hook. “I do not need to say that you must be kind to the horse and do exactly as Carlstrom says.”.

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Carlstrom was a Swede, with a big black moustache whose ends stuck straight out in the air. He looked exactly like a stylish colonel to say the least—a very cross colonel though! No, there was no use going to the stable. “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic,” said Bob. “I bet we’ll come through alive and kicking. Shall we start in the morning?” It now appeared that the marquis was poisoned by the vengeance of the woman to whom he had resigned his conscience. The consternation and distress of Ferdinand cannot easily be conceived: he hastened back to his father's chamber, but determined to conceal the dreadful catastrophe of Maria de Vellorno. This precaution, however, was useless; for the servants, in the consternation of terror, had revealed it, and the marquis had fainted. “What did you give him, little John?”.