There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. As soon as Jack gained his legs, he perceived Blueskin lying, as he thought, dead in the plantation, with a severe cut across his temples, and while he was stooping to assist him, he heard groans at a little distance. One only.
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