And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. It'll be advertised to-morrow. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. This year—I’ve got it badly.
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