Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively.
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