" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. . Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. "Ah! I see.
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