CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. "Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered.
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