This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. Now go. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. "You mean you were just sorry for him?" "As I would be for any human being in pain. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. CHAPTER XVII.
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