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"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. “You seem to have cultivated quite a jaunty appearance, and you certainly look years younger.
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