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When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. I hope we may never find her again. You can trust me, Anna. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature.

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