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Life is but short—,But Bob refused to give up hope. Too much depended on his getting free and being at the dam in time to prevent anything serious happening. Back at the door, he threw his whole weight time and time again on the boards but they held firm. This way, too, was closed to him.,Everything had to be so proper to suit Father.,“Mother! Mother!” shrieked Asta. “Here’s a piece of a finger, with your big shears, lying on the attic stairs!”,“Thank you, Aunt Grenertsen.”,With the utmost caution, the boy laid the burning stick down on the faintly red ashes of the threads and arranged other sticks on it. Then, gently, he breathed over it and the little flame grew and multiplied. Soon it was going briskly, but it was not till then that the load of fear dropped from Bob’s shoulders.,“Don’t worry,” returned Bob. “I ought to have been able to hold him. I’m only worried about what he might do now. I’m going to wake Mr. Taylor.”,It was so. In this frontier camp practically all the comforts that the civilization of a city could give were present: electric lights, ice, excellent stores—and the movie theatre. It was like transplanting a little corner of a city.,Bob was silent a moment, contrasting the life of ease he had spent with the experiences he had just listened to. Before he could speak, Jerry went on, laughing shortly.,“Bully,” agreed Jerry and took it over to the old man.,No, Johnny Blossom had never thought of such a thing. He shut his eyes tight so as to know how it would seem to be blind. Oh, dear, it must be dreadful! Think of everything being dark—always, always dark!,Beneath her sober, chasten'd reign..