"Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. She had heard the trader utter it many times. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. . He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. White?” she asked, laughing. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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