She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. Spurlock looked up. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. "He must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. She covered herself with her arms.
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