Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. It wound around a small manufactured lake. He was speechless. “They have all been trying to turn my head.
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