At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. He wisely refrained from questioning the manager of the Victoria. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet.
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