‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. while we can,’ Kimble managed, and dragged himself onto his knees. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist.
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