He jumped back, cursing. "What of her?" cried the knight. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. But not so much a pig as that man. During this movement, Jack grasped the barrel of his pistol, held in his breath, and motioned to Blueskin, who bared a long knife, to keep still. Never be downhearted.
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