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The class attendant on Professor Dingo's lectures was a large one, and it became my pride, as the wife of an eminent scientific man seeking herself in science the utmost consolation it could impart, to throw our house open to the students as a kind of Scientific Exchange. Every Tuesday evening there was lemonade and a mixed biscuit for all who chose to partake of those refreshments.
The little boy forced Dingo's good head to move up and down, five or six times. "He says, yes, Hercules! he says, yes!" cried little Jack. "You see then that it was you!" "Friend Dingo," replied Hercules, caressing the dog, "that is wrong. You promised me not to betray me." Yes, it was indeed Hercules, who had risked his life to save Dick Sand.
But if Dingo is not dead, Negoro has lied, and perhaps " At that moment a paw passed under the door. Dick Sand seized it, and recognized Dingo's paw. But, if it had a letter, that letter could only be attached to its neck. What to do? Was it possible to make that hole large enough for Dingo to put in its head? At all events, he must try it.
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