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Johnny Blossom dashed homeward over the hill, bounding his swiftest so as to get home soon, for he had thought of something he was eager to carry out. If the master of Kingthorpe were alive Grandmother would ask him for money, she had said. Well, but really—he, Johnny Blossom, was master of Kingthorpe now, so he must, of course, attend to it. And he knew how he could do it. He would sell the fishing rod Uncle Isaac had given him—it cost an awful lot of money, Miss Melling had said—and Grandmother should have all he got for it. And his collection of coins—he would sell that, too. It ought to bring a lot of money—those old two-shilling pieces were so curious; and there was the English coin—my! that was worth ever so much!—and the queer old medal.,"Oh, yes!" replied Little Red Riding-Hood, "on the further side of the mill that you see down there; hers is the first house in the village.",“Me?” the other boy echoed. “How? Shoot!”,“The old dam can wait. You did a mighty fine thing for me and I want to know how you managed it.”,First, he would try fishing far out over the flower beds with his rod. There! he had caught and broken off a big, dark red rose. The well was naturally a better place to fish. Johnny Blossom fished up the most incredible things from that well. He first threw them in, of course, and then it was a tremendous piece of work to get them out again—leaves, flowers, his own straw hat—yes, it was certainly an extra fine fishing rod. He would write at once to Uncle Isaac and thank him for it.,“I do not need to say that you must be kind to the horse and do exactly as Carlstrom says.”,“That will help us a heap,” was Ted’s idea. “We won’t have to worry about their taking a hand in our game!”,This news made Steve Whitney jump out of his chair. “What!” he cried. “You went through the Labyrinth? You’re joking.”,A short dash for freedom was all he got, for Wesley on the other horse caught him before he had gone many steps. This time they tied his feet by means of a rope under the horse’s belly.,The talk went on mostly about the Canyon. Bob noticed, however, that Jerry King took very little part in the conversation. He didn’t seem exactly unwilling to talk, but his remarks were few and far between. And when they came they were short and matter of fact. Mr. Whitney appeared not to notice this much. It was rather as if he was used to Jerry’s manner. But Bob, however, felt that he was going to have a hard job in thawing out this chap who was to be his companion through the summer. He wanted to make friends but Jerry seemed to repulse every advance he made.,Stumbling over the rocks, he started off as fast as he could manage. Half blinded, he slipped off a rock and was plunged into the current. Instinct made him swim and the current helping him, he approached rapidly the place where he thought he had seen Jerry. Little by little his forced exertions cleared his brain and his determination to go on made him forget his pains.,“Like shooting the chutes, isn’t it?” said Bob, putting his feeling into words as soon as he could speak. “Great sport!”.