” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. I must obey. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.
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