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Bob followed and was led to a little clump of bushes that grew on the edge some distance from the hotel. Mr. Whitney pushed them aside and disclosed a little ledge a few feet down from the rim, which afforded a comfortable seat. Suddenly they heard voices. Who in the world was coming? The boys looked toward the forest. “Good afternoon, Aunt Grenertsen. How do you do?” He sat down in the chair by the door, where he knew he was expected to sit..

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'I am dying,' said he, in a faultering accent; 'send instantly for the marchioness and my son.' After Jerry left, the work went on smoothly and the main dam grew higher and higher each day. Bob became proficient in the things Mr. Whitney gave him to do and by the time summer came near its close he felt that he had a good foundation of practical engineering on which to build the theoretical knowledge he would get at college. At last the start was made and after a walk of about a quarter of a mile along the rim the party came to the head of the Bright Angel Trail which led to the bottom. At first the going was fairly easy, but soon the trail grew steeper and steeper and Bob was amazed to see the calm way in which the little donkeys kept their footing, particularly when they were carrying large and heavy human beings. Owing to the immense zigzags that the trail had to take in order to provide a safe path, a lot of ground had to be covered. Therefore it was not until almost noon that the party reached the first plateau. This “plateau” is in reality far from flat. It is merely a slight leveling out of the general declivity about two-thirds of the way down. For a time all went well, but soon Jerry said in a whisper—somehow the dark made him whisper rather than speak aloud—“I can’t touch the roof any more, can you?”.