" "Come, lad; let's have it," said McClintock. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints.
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