Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. " "Miscreants!" cried Sheppard, almost driven frantic by the violence of his emotions; "you're all in league with him. She sensed that he was looking for her. " "But, Mr. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting.
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