Wood will protect you," urged Mrs. " "I forgot to mention there's a trifling reward for his capture," cried Shotbolt, popping his head from under the cloth. A sinister thought edged in. Mr. He may not be able to eat tin-cans, but he tries to. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night.
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