The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. “Why?” He inquired. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it.
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