Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. It was the last thing she felt like drinking.
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