From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. His eyes were bright with the hunt. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam.
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