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“Yes. All got guns. Horses too. Bad men.” What a crazy idea! Glad, when it had all come about only because Uncle Isaac was dead—dear, good, kind Uncle Isaac! Every time Johnny Blossom thought of him a lump came in his throat. Then he would whistle to try to get the lump away, but whistling did not help greatly, for he was very sorry and missed Uncle Isaac so much. No, glad about it he could never be, never in the world. “I think you may keep the report,” said the Principal at last. “For you will surely not do anything of the kind again, Johnny Blossom.”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
After breakfast they rolled up their mattress and stowed away in the boat the things they had used during the night. At last they were ready to start. The whole garden with its crooked old trees and newly planted young ones was overflowing with fruit: big and little pears, red apples, yellow apples, and oh! any quantity of plums—yellow plums bursting with ripeness, great juicy blue plums, and those sweet ones of a reddish purple color. Hurrah! The old man’s meal was sour dough biscuits and a sort of soup made from jerked beef and river water. But he offered it to them and served it as if it were a banquet. To the tired, hungry boys it was a banquet. They had done tremendous deeds on a diet of canned goods and any change was welcome. It was some moments before their combined efforts to clutch the rocky roof of the tunnel succeeded sufficiently to bring their boat under control..
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