CHAPTER XIX. " "Why, surely you don't think your guests would steal them," observed Rachel, archly. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk.
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