They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. "He hash a long journey before him—ha! ha!" "Peace!" cried Jonathan. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. "I've set a trap for him. G'night, kids. ‘I’ll wager that militiaman never rode the animal, then. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection.
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