Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. “No, no,” she cried. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s working.
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