“I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising.
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