‘But the major—’ ‘The major can say nothing at all. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. “I doubted my luck, at least. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. “Unbelievable. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain.
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