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The talk went on mostly about the Canyon. Bob noticed, however, that Jerry King took very little part in the conversation. He didn’t seem exactly unwilling to talk, but his remarks were few and far between. And when they came they were short and matter of fact. Mr. Whitney appeared not to notice this much. It was rather as if he was used to Jerry’s manner. But Bob, however, felt that he was going to have a hard job in thawing out this chap who was to be his companion through the summer. He wanted to make friends but Jerry seemed to repulse every advance he made. 'It is now then my turn to be satisfied,' replied the marquis, 'and till I am, not one of you shall stir. Open me that door.'—'My lord!'—'Nay,' said the marquis, assuming a look of stern authority—'dispute not my commands. I am not to be trifled with.' “Jeremias the wood-cutter is ill in bed, too,” he said suddenly..

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“Your father’s let you go?” “Why, there he is! Stop, Carlstrom, stop! Johnny Blossom! Johnny Blossom!” she called, twisting herself round in the carriage. “You are just the person I was going to town to see,” she continued. “I had a letter from your Uncle Isaac saying that you were to have this fishing rod at once.” Bob looked and saw it was so. A little speck of white appeared in the distance. Rapidly it grew larger. Now the blackness turned to a gray and in the new light the boys saw why it was they had come through without rubbing against the side walls. “Gee whiz!” ejaculated Bob. “This is worse than anything I’ve tackled before—ever!”.