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The wind whistled in his ears and he was choked by the rapid ascent, yet the sensation was not entirely unpleasant. It was like riding in the fastest elevator he’d ever been in—at triple the speed. But it puzzled him to know why Jerry could be a traitor to Mr. Whitney and the Service. What was the inducement the cattlemen had offered him, and what had happened on the job that had made him unhappy enough to be unfaithful to it? There was no answer to these questions. He gave it up as a bad job. “Yes, but Father said I was to be kind to Bob, and careful of him—and I haven’t been,” sobbed Johnny. “And besides, I am the heir of Kingthorpe, you know, Mother.”.
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But it was in similar canyons, smaller, perhaps, that the Service built its dams. Down the sides of cliffs like these, which even the mountain goats had difficulty in mastering, the Service had to build its roads. It was to such desolate beauty that the Service brought progress and the service of mankind. In his imagination Bob saw the smooth face of an enormous dam filling even this great canyon,—generating enough horse power to run all the factories of the West, and collecting enough water to irrigate all the homes that could be made on the great American desert. Right then nothing was too stupendous a task for final achievement. His whole being thrilled with the thought that he was to be a part of the Service, that he was to have a hand in the great work that it was doing and would do. But Bob was so queer today. And he breathed so strangely. He had been breathing something like that these last few days, but today it was worse, and he didn’t hurry even when Johnny struck him again with the whip. Finally he almost stopped, and breathed more queerly than ever. CHAPTER XI “I want to know if you will come to a party on Saturday at Kingthorpe, Madame Bakke,” said Johnny..
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