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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The God of His Fathers: Tales of the Klondyke"

Strain and strive to the
uttermost, the sailor's feet still stuck to the floor and sustained a
part of his weight. The remaining portion was supported by the point of
contact just under his chin. Failing to swing him clear, Kent clung on,
resolved to slowly throttle him or force him to tell what he had done
with the hoard. But the Man with the Gash would not throttle. Five,
ten, fifteen minutes passed, and at the end of that time, in despair,
Kent let his prisoner down.
"Well," he remarked, wiping away the sweat, "if you won't hang you'll
shoot. Some men wasn't born to be hanged, anyway."
"An' it's a pretty mess as you'll make o' this 'ere cabin floor."
Cardegee was fighting for time. "Now, look 'ere, I'll tell you wot we
do; we'll lay our 'eads 'longside an' reason together. You've lost some
dust. You say as 'ow I know, an' I say as 'ow I don't. Let's get a
hobservation an' shape a course--"
"Vast heavin'!" Kent dashed in, maliciously imitating the other's
enunciation. "I'm going to shape all the courses of this shebang, and
you observe; and if you do anything more, I'll bore you as sure as
Moses!"
"For the sake of my mother--"
"Whom God have mercy upon if she loves you.


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