Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for. Sir John once more looked around him. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. The youth of them! And what was he going to do when they left his island? What would Donald McClintock be doing with himself, when youth left the island, never more to return? Ruth was thrilling with joy. Listen to me, Winifred.
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