This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you.
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