“The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. " A peculiar smile illuminated Jack's features. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
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