"Promise me that. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. And, for one expedition at least, we will go up this desolate valley here to Mattmark, and so on to Monte Moro. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. "I hardly know," returned Jack; "but it's not safe for me to remain much longer here.
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