Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle. " "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. " "Come, my disconsolate darlings," cried Austin, "it only wants five minutes to six. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away.
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