This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. Eight per cent. ” 162 “Mmmm-hmmm.
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