Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. But McClintock's mind was perceptive, whereas Spurlock's was only dully confused. After much clapping, they started.
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