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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.,After breakfast Johnny Blossom determined that he must walk twenty-four times back and forth on the veranda railing, the railing representing a rope stretched over Niagara Falls. Johnny walked with greatest care, his arms outstretched and his tongue in his cheek, to help him keep his balance.,He bounced back, not knowing that his clothes were afire in several places. Instinctively he charged again.,Bob—that was the horse’s name—knew Johnny whenever he went into the stable; there was no doubt about that, for the little horse would turn around in his stall and whinny at the sound of the boy’s step or voice. Of course Johnny always had sugar for him and brushed his pretty coat for him every day—dear, cunning little Bob!,My! how he ran! He was in such a fright that he did not once glance back. My, oh, my! Here he was running along in his bare skin; while his clothes, wet as wet could be, were lying down there among all those elegant ladies!,It didn’t turn out to be so bad as they had imagined. Shortly after they started the river grew smoother and shallower, so that wading was quite possible. During the afternoon of the next day, with almost startling suddenness they found themselves out of the canyon. It ended almost as surprisingly as it had begun. A sudden bend through the high cliffs and they were in the open country.,The Indian stalked swiftly away and Bob turned towards his boarding house and sleep. It seemed a safe bet that there would be no further trouble that night. In all probability if an uprising amongst the Mexican laborers had been planned it would not come off to-night. Bob was sure that the blowing up of the dam would have been the signal for the starting of general hostilities. Since he had been able to prevent the signal being given, and at the same time had scared Miguel off, the chances were that all would remain quiet. Leaderless, the Mexicans were harmless, and Bob had a hunch that Miguel was the only one of them who was strong enough to direct the revolt.,,“You can just bet your boots I am,” returned Ted, holding out his hand. Bob shook it warmly.,Oh, dear! How dreadful! At home no one knew a thing about anything, and here he had behaved like this and perhaps hurt Bob. To “break a horse’s wind” was dangerous he knew, because he had heard about one of the livery stable horses that had to be shot on account of being “broken-winded.” But Bob! It was impossible that it should go that way with Bob! Oh, it couldn’t!,They said good-bye to one another; the Queen sent a message to the King, written with her blood on a piece of rag; for she possessed neither ink nor paper. She begged him to give attention to everything the good Frog told him, and to believe all she said, as she was bringing him news of herself.,All this time they were striving as hard as they could to turn the boat toward shore. Johnny’s thoughts ran on:.