207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. " "It's all over with him by this time, master," replied Ben, turning the head of his boat, and rowing swiftly towards the scene of strife; "but d—n him, he was the chap as hit poor Bill Thomson just now, and I don't much care if he should be food for fishes. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!….
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