He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. There were two sisters, you know. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men.
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