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Graycoat's poor little heart would beat with hope every time his mother came, and, when she hopped swiftly and softly away in the early morning, Graycoat's little heart would sink again, and he would send forth a pitiful little cry after his mother a cry that went to her very heart. From the time that Graycoat was taken prisoner Siccatee scarcely ate or slept.
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