‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron.
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