Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “Good God!” he exclaimed. Caliban sarch ebery hole in de place, but Shack no dere.
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