Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. I'll be outside the hotel at nine-thirty. A native sold his supply of nuts in exchange for cloth, tobacco and so forth. “I can’t. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge. See paragraph 1. ” He started back as though he had been shot.
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