The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands.
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