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"Mrs Bigg, ma'am! I never heard of her." Five minutes later the trio were out on the forest path, passing in Indian file towards the haunted grove. The wind had risen and now swept through the great trees with ghostly sound. A black cloud, creeping up out of the west, was wiping out the stars. Throughout the forest the notes of the night-prowlers were strangely hushed. No word was spoken between the treasure-seekers until the elm-bridged creek was reached. Then old Harry paused, with labored breath, his head bent as though listening. "Be here," said he, "on Saturday next. It may be that I'll give you the berth. No more words. Off with you!".
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
Scarcely had the old gentleman pronounced these words when a footman, throwing open the door, exclaimed: "Mr Greyquill presents his humble respects to Captain Acton, and desires leave to speak with him." He picked up his paddle and followed in the wake of the other boat. The men were putting out their decoys as Billy passed the point. "What! Was he throwin' clubs at my coon?" Billy shouted. "I should be much obliged for a cask of beef, sir," he said, after touching the narrow penthouse of a queerly constructed fur cap. "It's still a long way home for that there Louisa Ann, whose bin a hundred and seventy days in bringing us so fur.".
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