"You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience.
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