He leaned forward to embrace her. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. That’s about the beginning. And as a natural consequence, they don’t do so well, and they don’t get on—and so the world doesn’t pay them. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. I have it about me.
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