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"Galloping Dick himself, or I'm a Dutchman!" he cried for the

twentieth time; "up he comes, bold as brass, bless you, and a

horse-pistol in each hand 'Hold hard!' says I, and ups with my

blunderbuss; you re to me

"Quite well," said I

"Ah, but you should have seen the fellow's face, when he saw reen as grass,

for if ever there was death in a man's face, and sudden death at

that, there was sudden death in mine, when, all at once, my mare,

my accursed mare, jibbed--"

"Yes, yes?" cried half-a-dozen breathless voices, "what then?"

"Why, then, gentle round upon the ring of intent faces, "why then,