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Oh, if he were only at home! Oh, those wicked postmaster’s boys who had rowed away and left him! They should get their pay when—but suppose he should die now! “Our Father who art in heaven.” Johnny Blossom, with eyes closed, said the whole of the Lord’s Prayer as he lay on his stomach on the red buoy. Now surely God would help him. She found the table laid for her at noon, and during her dinner she was entertained with a delightful concert, although no creature was visible. “You bet,” answered Bob. “I’ll never forget ’em.” For a moment he said nothing, letting his thoughts drift. Then—“But where is the job? You said it wasn’t here.”.

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From where they were sitting, screened by the undergrowth, they could see a section of a rough path that led up the hillside. For a long time nothing happened. As the Indian did not speak, Bob felt it best to remain quiet also. Probably there was a reason for it. The delay did not worry him much, however, as there was plenty of material for his mind to be busy with. Ever since he had talked with Mr. Whitney, events had tumbled upon him one after another. Mr. Whitney had gone and Ted was doing outpost duty. Jerry was on the other side. Only the Indian was left to him and he was not much of a counselor. True, he was beginning to prove himself a great help but through the limitations of language he could not be used to discuss what ought to be done regarding the things they found out. What the outcome of the mess was to be was beyond Bob’s imagination to foresee. He was determined to do what he felt was his duty, and if the consequences were serious it could not be helped. "Who is there?" Jerry was taken aback and for a moment he hesitated before answering. They stole glances at Aunt Grenertsen’s window. Fortunately, she was not looking out and so had not seen the unlucky outcome of this attempt. Hastily thrusting the eight apples into their blouses, they both climbed the tree again and stretched and reached their utmost till one branch broke and the boys nearly tumbled from the tree..