"All's bowman, my covey. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. “Dare!” she said. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed.
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