So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. . She spoke slowly. “It is in your hands from now on, Shar. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world.
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