“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. The tropical dawn is swift. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. In vain Wood protested his innocence. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed. When they came to the round-house, Terry's courage failed him. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move.
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