"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. ” “But how?” He was, she thought, a little too insistent. We’ve done nothing to deserve it. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. ’ The eyes flashed momentarily.
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