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No, luckily, there they hung. And Aunt Grenertsen was gazing out of the window from behind her plants, and Katrina peering over the sash curtains just as usual. Well, he would go in and see how Aunt Grenertsen was today. The front door was unlocked, so he could go in that way without inconveniencing her highness, Katrina.,

Involuntarily Bob gasped. He recognized what it was that Miguel had taken from the hole and what probably was also in the odd-shaped package he had been carrying.,

His captors began talking about the situation at the Mexican border and Bob drank in every word they said. It was just now that he began to realize what depth of feeling there was about the way the situation was being handled and to what lengths the ranchers and cattlemen would go to force the United States to make war on the other country. Wesley and Harper undoubtedly were “bad men,” but Bob was convinced by their talk that they had started on this particular piece of villainy for reasons which they thought were right. Probably when the thing began, they never planned anything worse than a strike among the Mexicans in order to delay for a year or two longer the flooding of the rangeland. Then had come the chance to induce the Mexicans to commit worse crimes in order to strengthen the feeling against Mexico and thus bring on war. Holman, the boss of these men and Bob’s host, had said that he wanted to move his stock to his ranch in Mexico when the dam was finished—but it would be foolish to do that while the country was still so unsettled. Presumably, there were a lot of men in the same fix as Holman, and these, naturally, wanted the United States to step in and make the unsettled country peaceful.,

Bob’s first impulse was to jump in after Jerry, but in a flash he realized he could help him a lot more if he could save the boat and pull him to shore. Grabbing the oars, he made a vain effort to stem the boat’s headway by pulling against the stream. He was too late. The current had the frail craft in its grip.

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“You are a good Dad!” cried Bob, putting an arm around the older man’s shoulders and hugging him unashamedly. “Whiskers—that is, Steve Whitney—wrote and told me to report to him as soon as I could. Then I have your permission to go West just as soon as school closes?”,

The obscurity of the place prevented Hippolitus from distinguishing the features of the dying man. From the blood which covered him, and from the surrounding circumstances, he appeared to be murdered; and the count had no doubt that the men he beheld were the murderers. The horror of the scene entirely overcame him; he stood rooted to the spot, and saw the assassins rifle the pockets of the dying person, who, in a voice scarcely articulate, but which despair seemed to aid, supplicated for mercy. The ruffians answered him only with execrations, and continued their plunder. His groans and his sufferings served only to aggravate their cruelty. They were proceeding to take from him a miniature picture, which was fastened round his neck, and had been hitherto concealed in his bosom; when by a sudden effort he half raised himself from the ground, and attempted to save it from their hands. The effort availed him nothing; a blow from one of the villains laid the unfortunate man on the floor without motion. The horrid barbarity of the act seized the mind of Hippolitus so entirely, that, forgetful of his own situation, he groaned aloud, and started with an instantaneous design of avenging the deed. The noise he made alarmed the banditti, who looking whence it came, discovered the count through the casement. They instantly quitted their prize, and rushed towards the door of the room. He was now returned to a sense of his danger, and endeavoured to escape to the exterior part of the ruin; but terror bewildered his senses, and he mistook his way. Instead of regaining the arch-way, he perplexed himself with fruitless wanderings, and at length found himself only more deeply involved in the secret recesses of the pile.,

Carlstrom was a Swede, with a big black moustache whose ends stuck straight out in the air. He looked exactly like a stylish colonel to say the least—a very cross colonel though! No, there was no use going to the stable.,

As soon as the Indian was gone Bob started to carry out a plan of his own. He knew the Indian would not have allowed him to take the chance, so he had been forced to use a stratagem to get Feather-in-the-Wind out of the way.