"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. It was the size of my palm. 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. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him.
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