His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. The risk I run is nothing to yours. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. Get out your pad and pencil.
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