They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. Listen, it is I. . Gerald grinned. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. “Listen to me. "For me—his master, Mr.
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