Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. " "All right. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. “We are the species,” said Miss Miniver, “men are only incidents.
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