The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. " "Perhaps not," replied Jack, carelessly. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. All at once they came to the top, the faded blue sky overhead, and whichever way he looked, the horizon, the great rocking circle which hemmed them in. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader.
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