’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. ‘I think it is better if I hold the pistol. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. Luckily I’m not. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin.
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