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CHAPTER VIII,“I know, Jerry, and I’m sorry.”,And will track them right into their homes—lack-a-day!,In order not to lose any time they packed the dunnage they expected to take into two loads and carried it with them when they went down the next morning to inspect the boat. It was a long way from the little town to the river and their spirits sagged as the loads grew heavier. However, they found the boat covered over by brushwood and some old sail-cloth, and when its owner pulled it out into the open they were much encouraged. The boat was about sixteen feet long, high at both ends with water-tight compartments.,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.,The room was dark and empty; but the traces of blood were visible on the floor; and Julia, though ignorant of the particular apprehension of Hippolitus, almost swooned at the sight. On quitting the room, they wandered for some time among the ruins, without discovering any thing extraordinary, till, in passing under the arch-way by which Hippolitus had first entered the building, their footsteps returned a deep sound, which convinced them that the ground beneath was hollow. On close examination, they perceived by the light of their torch, a trapdoor, which with some difficulty they lifted, and discovered beneath a narrow flight of steps. They all descended into a low winding passage, where they had not been long, when they heard a trampling of horses above, and a loud and sudden uproar.,Zing! A sharp report and a whistle through the air by his ear told him that Miguel had caught sight of him and hoped to stop him by means of a bullet. But Bob had to go on. Again came a shot, but this time farther from him. “Rotten shooting!” panted Bob for the wind to hear. Now he was almost at his goal. He saw that there was still a length of fuse to be burned before it got to the explosive but the smoke was moving rapidly towards him. Another bullet came. He would not have time to get to the end of the fuse before it exploded. Despairing, he was almost ready to give up.,He unclosed the door, and beheld in a large room, well lighted, a company of friars, dressed in the habit of their order, placed round a table, which was profusely spread with wines and fruits. The Superior, whose habit distinguished him from his associates, appeared at the head of the table. He was lifting a large goblet of wine to his lips, and was roaring out, 'Profusion and confusion,' at the moment when the duke entered. His appearance caused a general alarm; that part of the company who were not too much intoxicated, arose from their seats; and the Superior, dropping the goblet from his hands, endeavoured to assume a look of austerity, which his rosy countenance belied. The duke received a reprimand, delivered in the lisping accents of intoxication, and embellished with frequent interjections of hiccup. He made known his quality, his distress, and solicited a night's lodging for himself and his people. When the Superior understood the distinction of his guest, his features relaxed into a smile of joyous welcome; and taking him by the hand, he placed him by his side.,“Yes, but it is so sad.”,The boy stood straight under the taunts his former friend heaped upon him. A little smile was at the corner of his mouth as he answered.,'My father, struck with the conduct of Hippolitus, paused upon the offer. The alteration in my health was too obvious to escape his notice; the conflict between pride and parental tenderness, held him for some time in indecision, but the latter finally subdued every opposing feeling, and he yielded his consent to my marriage with Angelo. The sudden transition from grief to joy was almost too much for my feeble frame; judge then what must have been the effect of the dreadful reverse, when the news arrived that Angelo had fallen in a foreign engagement! Let me obliterate, if possible, the impression of sensations so dreadful. The sufferings of my brother, whose generous heart could so finely feel for another's woe, were on this occasion inferior only to my own.,Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy..