‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. The late afternoon, en effet. " "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin.
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