Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. "It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. “If you say so, my pet.
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