Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man.
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