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Oh, pshaw! It was raining. Johnny Blossom turned a scowling face toward the window. Just what one might expect—to have it rain the very first day of vacation! It always did, always. Funny kind of rain, anyhow—coming down in a regular slant. Perfectly horrid. He had planned to do so much today—be “boatman,” for instance.,

Not a sign of Johnny’s was to be seen. Who could have been so mean as to take it away? Of course he had put it in its place. (A great stirring up of things and searching everywhere.) Dear! How meddlesome people were! Here they had gone and hidden away his fishing rod. Really, wouldn’t any one be angry?,

“Ugh! boy!” said Johnny.,

When at last the jolting cars stopped, they found a car waiting, into which the three piled. Once under way, Bob asked Mr. Whitney, “Doesn’t the railroad go into the camp? It seems to me it must be pretty heavy hauling all the big machinery from here across the desert.”

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“I reckon I’ve seen as many as twenty danged fools try this stunt and I’ve never heard of any of them comin’ out the other end—that is, comin’ out breathin’. It’s a pity when the two of you air so young. I’ll be right glad to hear from you ef you do get through, seein’ as how it was my boat. Danged ef I figger I’ll hear, howsomever. Good-bye to you.”,

As he was revolving these things in his mind they came to an opening in the thick brush. It lay right on the edge of the river, close to which they had been traveling. Evidently it was the place that had been decided upon as his prison, for, almost screened by the encroaching scrub oaks, was an adobe hut. Bob could not imagine what it had been used for. As they approached it in the gathering gloom of night, it did not seem to have any opening except a door. No windows were visible from the direction in which they came and Bob doubted if there were any on the other side.,

He reached his chamber, and having shut the door, surveyed the room in fearful examination. Ideal forms flitted before his fancy, and for the first time in his life he feared to be alone. Shame only withheld him from calling Baptista. The gloom of the hour, and the death-like silence that prevailed, assisted the horrors of his imagination. He half repented of the deed, yet deemed it now too late to obviate it; and he threw himself on his bed in terrible emotion. His head grew dizzy, and a sudden faintness overcame him; he hesitated, and at length arose to ring for assistance, but found himself unable to stand.,

“Yes, he said it was balm.”