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Mr. Whitney was silent a minute as he thought over Jerry’s plea for the captive.,

“Keep your shirt on! Chief’s orders!” but he had to explain the whole matter before the man realized that he was not an anarchist. The foreman’s strength added to his was sufficient to give the water a clear outlet, and Bob saw with satisfaction that the body of water passing down the canal to the weakened spot was considerably less.,

“We might as well be going,” said Jerry. “Hop in.” He was already at the oars, which he had tied securely to the oarlocks. The wisdom of this precaution was later to be proved to them. Once Bob was in, Jerry pulled off. He was a fair oarsman and going with the current the boat made good time. At this point the river was broad and, except for the towering hills which rose in the distance, it might have been a peaceful tributary stream of any civilized river. Its calm surface gave no warning of what was to come in the way of rapids and whirlpools. After a bit Bob took the oars and as he had had more experience with boats he made even better time than Jerry had. Turn by turn they went through the morning.,

There was once upon a time a little village girl, the prettiest ever seen or known, of whom her mother was dotingly fond. Her grandmother was even fonder of her still, and had a little red hood made for the child, which suited her so well, that wherever she went, she was known by the name of Little Red Riding-Hood.

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“Yes, it is like a mirror, Grandmother,” answered Tellef.,

The fact that Jerry was gone whirled in his head. He must find out where his comrade was. Looking down, he saw something which had escaped his first look. It was a black object bobbing about in an eddy off the main rush of the current. He could not be sure that it was Jerry. His wracked bones told him it was only driftwood—that Jerry was gone—that he could make no further effort. But his pride and determination told him he must go on. It might be Jerry and if he did not make sure he could never forgive himself.,

“I’d like that,” he said one day as the trio were loafing away the afternoon in the shade of Holman’s bunkhouse, “and I think I’ll drift up that way and tackle it.”,

“What the dickens do you mean by not reporting this morning? Just because Mr. Whitney is away, do you think you can take a vacation when you feel like it? And King, too; wait till I get hold of him! But what have you got to say for yourself, young man?”