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"Well, sir, that was the guytrash calling to you to come, so as to get hold of you; and if it did I should never see you again." "Not if it keeps as dark as this, you stupid old grub. I know what made that sound. Come along." "What, are you going to risk it, sir, in spite of all I said?" "Yes; I am going on there." "Very well, sir.
I didn't want to die like this in the dark, and I don't know whether weapons is of any use against things like that; but I'll stand by you, Master Fred, to the end." As he spoke, there was a faint grating sound which attracted Fred's attention. "Were you drawing your sword?" he whispered. "Yes, sir." "What for?" "To cut the guytrash down, if I can." "Put it away," whispered Fred, angrily.
"Hush!" whispered Fred. "But didn't you hear that, sir? It's the guytrash." "Here, this way," whispered Fred. "I can find the place now." "No, no, dear lad, don't go near it," said Samson, under his breath. "You never know what may happen, if you go near it. Don't, pray don't go."
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