Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much. “Looks like old times here, I see.
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