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"L-l-lucky for us they d-d-don't know h-h-how," said Toby, vigorously. "It seems that when you get to talking about any one they're almost sure to appear," Max told them; "and look who's coming out on the bridge now." "Why, it's Shack Beggs, sure it is!" declared Steve. "Wonder what's he's up to?" muttered Bandy-legs. "We'd all better keep our peepers on that feller if he comes around.
"It's the h-h-hindleg of a j-j-jack-rabbit," she said, "shot by a g-g-grave at the f-f-full of the moon. It's supposed to be l-l-lucky. It was given to me by a naval officer who got drowned. It's the only way I can h-h-help you!" And thus equipped I started bravely for New York. I asked one of the typists in the office to copy out the list, and prepared to wade in.
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