"We're merely about to discharge our duty by apprehending a rebel. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought.
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