The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. You’re mine. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true.
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