"He acts queerly, too. And I have no more the pistol. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell.
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