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Uncle Isaac had not given him anything the last time he was there, nor the time before either, so very likely—Pshaw! Even if you got nothing at all from Uncle Isaac, it was always more than pleasant to go to Kingthorpe. He wasn’t going there to beg—far from it; he wasn’t quite so mean as that. The duke quitted the mansion, re-animated by the cheerfulness of morn, and pursued his journey. He could gain no intelligence of the fugitives. About noon he found himself in a beautiful romantic country; and having reached the summit of some wild cliffs, he rested, to view the picturesque imagery of the scene below. A shadowy sequestered dell appeared buried deep among the rocks, and in the bottom was seen a lake, whose clear bosom reflected the impending cliffs, and the beautiful luxuriance of the overhanging shades. “A whole heap. It seems that the talk was in town that the lid was going to blow off down at the border and that if they could get the Greasers riled up on the dam, the trouble would not be laid to them but simply on the general[170] bad blood between the Mexicans and Americans. Wesley and Harper were so enthusiastic they wanted to blow up the spillway and the mixing plant. Even in their enthusiasm they realized that the portion of the dam already built would be more than a job for dynamite.”.

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