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It was easy once it was explained, Bob realized, and the words brought a complete faith in his guide’s methods. “An old postage stamp,” said she. "Well, I was thinking of going to visit her myself," rejoined the Wolf, "so I will take this path, and you take the other, and we will see which of us gets there first.".
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"It is your grand-daughter, Little Red Riding-Hood," answered the Wolf, imitating the child's voice. "I have brought a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent you." The good grandmother, who was ill in bed, called out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. He leaped on to the poor old woman, and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been three days without food. He then shut the door again, and laid himself down in the grandmother's bed, to wait for Little Red Riding-Hood. Presently she came and knocked at the door: tap, tap. As far as the dam was concerned and the work going on there, things were quiet for the next day or two. But the situation between the United States and Mexico seemed to be growing more and more tense. From the border came rumors of dissatisfaction caused by the presence of American troops on patrol duty and the deportation of Mexicans from the United States back into their country. As these reports multiplied they furnished a topic of discussion for all. The American element feared especially the effects any serious clash might have on the work at the dam and openly discussed the possibility that an attack of some sort might be made on the work itself. The mansion was irregular and vast, and he was bewildered in its intricacies. In endeavouring to find his way back, he only perplexed himself more, till at length he arrived at a door, which he believed led into the hall he first quitted. On opening it he discovered, by the faint light of the moon, a large place which he scarcely knew whether to think a cloister, a chapel, or a hall. It retired in long perspective, in arches, and terminated in a large iron gate, through which appeared the open country. At these words every nerve of Ferdinand thrilled; he let go the marquis's hand and started back. 'Look not so fiercely on me,' said the marquis, in a hollow voice; 'your eyes strike death to my soul; my conscience needs not this additional pang.'—'My mother!' exclaimed Ferdinand—'my mother! Speak, tell me.'—'I have no breath,' said the marquis. 'Oh!—Take these keys—the south tower—the trapdoor.—'Tis possible—Oh!—'.
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