‘Ha!’ uttered Captain Roding triumphantly. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. Ah, no, I have it wrong. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast.
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