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He sat up, rubbing his eyes and fumbling with the cordings of his pajamas. Bill was sitting on the edge of his bed, scowling and angry. "Got us? Got us?" Dick repeated vaguely. "Yes. Dynamited the Peltons, and I'm afraid that ain't all. We'll have to go up the pipe line to find out." Dick rolled out and jumped for his clothing.
Sponge was too good a judge to disfigure the horses with the miserable, pulpy, weather-bleached job-saddles and bridles of 'livery, but had them properly turned out with well-made, slightly-worn London ones of his own, and nice, warm brown woollen rugs, below broadly bound, blue-and-white-striped sheeting, with richly braided lettering, and blue and white cordings.
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