Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. Mary is very good, but she is too nervous to be the slightest protection. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. ” He repeated several times that he would trust her, though it remained obscure just exactly where the trust came in. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle.
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