"Oh Jerusalem!" groaned the terrified Fatty, "It's the ghost! Look, it's sheddin' blue grave-mist! Fer the love of Mike let's git out'a this!",
A short, heavy set man stirred in his seat, and spoke without rising. "I'm only a poor workin'-man, without anythin' to give but the strength of my arm, but I'm willin' to go down and help them fishermen build their smoke-houses. I'm a pretty good carpenter, as you men know.",
The deacon sat silent, thinking. "What's their game, Tom?" he asked suddenly..
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