" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb.
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