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“Bucket,” said the boy briefly. Bob started to retrace his steps but he had not gone far before he was aware that soft footsteps were following him. He turned in his tracks and stood still. A moment later the Indian he had befriended the night before slipped up beside him. "Does she live far from here?" asked the Wolf..

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At last he passed the sluice gates which marked the center of the dam. A few rods further on he knew he must climb up and look over. Despair instantly renewed his vigour; he started from the ground, and throwing round him a look of eager desperation, his eye caught the glimpse of a small door, upon which the moon-beam now fell. He made towards it, and passed it just as the light of a torch gleamed upon the walls of the vault. “A few scratches and bruises. Nothing much. But I didn’t care; I was free. I walked back to the farm, camped out under a haystack and the next morning showed up for breakfast. Mrs. Olson certainly was good to me while I was there. After harvest she made me stay on and let me go to school. I paid for my keep by doing chores.” “You bet I don’t train along with him. I’m so sick of cows that I never want to see a long horn again. I’d like to be an engineer. I sneaked up once or twice to the dam. It must be fun to help built it. But I reckon it’s not for me.” The boys were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. Then the newcomer exclaimed, “But here’s the place we want to do some fishing. Grab a line and bait up!”.