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When he came to the surface, Bob’s first sensation was one of extreme weariness. So spent was he that it was all he could do to keep himself afloat. The possibility of another shot from Miguel did not spur him to dodging in the water. If the shot was to come, it would. Bob knew that he was alive, therefore the danger which threatened the dam was over. This being the case, a great contentment came to him—what could happen to him now mattered very little.,

From a distance came the rattle of gunshots.,

“It certainly is going to be some big dam,” said Bob, waving his hand over the work spread out below them. “How high is it going to be?”,

“It certainly has,” said Mr. Whitney, “and it seems to me that my thanks are due to everybody. I was away endeavoring to arrange for a detachment of troops to come here and protect the project from just what was about to happen. The trouble at Columbus mixed things up so that they could not give me any definite promise and I thought it best to stick around until I knew what could be expected. I believed that nothing could happen up here so quickly—it was my mistake. But you chaps have made it all right for me. I want to thank you all!”

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“Are they going to do what he says?” put in Bob in a tense whisper.,

Once upon a time there was a woodcutter and his wife who had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. People wondered that the woodcutter had so many children so near in age, but the fact was, that several of them were twins. He and his wife were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, as not one of them was yet able to earn his livelihood. What troubled them still more was, that the youngest was very delicate, and seldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity rather than of good sense. He was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely bigger than one's thumb, and so they called him Little Thumbling.,

With a last wave of the hand, the boys started on their long hike.,

If there had only been a chance to thank him for the fishing rod! Johnny Blossom had some thought of asking God to thank Uncle Isaac for him, but he put it hastily aside. No, he was sure that would not do.