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. Daughters were in the air that day. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. Wood. The mode of destruction makes no difference.
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