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“Oh, eat and drink and have fun. If you want to swing in the big swing, for instance, you can do that.”,

[218]The day and night passed quietly, but the next morning the mess room of the Quarter-house was in a turmoil. News had come in that a gang of Mexican bandits had made a raid on Columbus, killing and wounding many Americans. This report was unconfirmed but rumors flew thick and fast. Some had it that it was the army of Carranza and others that it was merely an unorganized deed of a rash bandit. Most of the men thought it was Villa.,

Wasn’t there a likelihood that they were doing this to get the boy under some obligation to them? If so, it was a point against Jerry. Then, Jerry was intimate with Miguel, who undoubtedly was the leader of the dissatisfied and reckless element among the Mexican laborers. The cattlemen had no way of getting in touch with the Mexicans at the dam without being suspected of some treachery. Hence Jerry’s coming to them might possibly have been a lucky thing from their standpoint. Still all this was circumstantial and as yet Bob had no proof. But everything that happened made him more and more suspicious of Jerry’s good faith.,

After his writing, he went to the wharf and fished for a while. As it happened he caught nothing, but it was fun enough just to put out the rod and draw it in again.

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“Except as a telescope. But at that it’s told us a lot. But that was a wonderful hunch of yours, Bob. I guess you must be a born engineer. To put it through we’d have to stop up the mouth of the tunnel into which the river runs. Then extra masonry work on top of the cliff would bring it up to the necessary height.”,

Saying this he turned the key, and was rushing on, but the door refused to yield; it shook under his hands, and seemed as if partially held by some person on the other side. The marquis was surprized, and made several efforts to move it, without effect. He then ordered his servants to burst it open, but, shrinking back with one accord, they cried, 'For God's sake, my lord, go no farther; we are satisfied here are no ghosts, only let us get back.',

“Oh! but to think—music! It’s just heavenly to listen to music.”,

Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible.