"We'll do it. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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