While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. It was a grand life. "And I," muttered Jack. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. The Iron Bar. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. Not much. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. I take it, down where we're going will be nothing new to you.
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