Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin. "I'm sorry, Mr. What do you mean by calling me wretch, Madam!" she added marching up to Mrs. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance.
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