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This time the answer was no—once was enough. So Bob, determined to get as much fun as possible out of his enforced stay at the Canyon, started out alone and joined the group of tourists in front of the hotel. They were already preparing to make the descent. He decided to walk rather than trust to one of the funny fat little mules which were provided for the visitors who were too stout or too lazy to use the means of locomotion given them by nature. “Now you shall hear!” shouted Johnny, dashing into the arbor. “Just think! I was put up on the library table, and all the people came and shook hands with me; old Rolfsen began it, and he made a kind of speech for me; and Lars Berget wanted to shout ‘Hurrah!’ when we drove out. And if all this isn’t true, you may chop my head off.” Johnny Blossom’s eyes shone. He was tremendously in earnest. Pshaw! That was always the way! The more pains you took, the worse was the writing. Some of the letters were awfully small and crooked and others were too big; and the whole thing slanted down hill so that there was scarcely room for his name underneath in the corner; and of course his name must be there..
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They followed him through the church to the cloisters, at the extremity of which was a small door, which the friar unlocked. It opened upon the woods. Johnny could say no more, but threw himself flat on the floor and cried. By degrees Mother got him to tell about the big boys, who wanted to ride, about the racing and everything. “Good-by.” He bowed, his little naked heels put together in most formal manner. “Bully,” agreed Jerry and took it over to the old man..
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