"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. " At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes.
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