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"What is it now?" he asked, gruffly "Hev' ye got 'e directly across the other's
shoulder, his ar desperately
"It's thar!--an' it's his face! Oh, God!--I know it--fifteen year"
The lanced backward into the pitch darkness, but without
his body
"There 's nuthin' out there, 'less it's a firefly," he insisted, in a
tone of conteot on yer
nerves What is it ye think ye see?"
"His face, I tell ye! Don't I know? It's all green and ghastly, with
snaky flames playin' about it! But I know; fifteen years, an' I ain't
fergot"
He sank down feebly--sank until he was on his knees, his head craned
forward The ure
co to shrink
away
"My God! was thet you? I thought it was him a-reachin' fer me Here,
let me take yer hand Oh, Lord! An' can't ye see? It's just there
beyond thereen, crawlin', devilish--but it's him"
"Who?"