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As he spoke, the proprietor of the Wild West Show moved his great bulk in the forward seat, and produced a heavy-calibred revolver, that glistened in the starlight. "Get busy!" he ordered. "Y-y-y-y-yes, sir," stuttered the chauffeur, who had been hired in San Antonio, before the show crossed the border, and found itself in the country of the insurrectos.
"Y-y-y-y-yes," came up in feeble, stuttering tones. "I'm almost frozen. I'm hanging above the water but I can't hold on much longer. The bag of specimens is too heavy." "Throw it away," urged Jack. "N-n-n-not for worlds," was the reply. "I was looking for another rare bit of quartz when I fell in here." "I'll run to the car," said Jack, who had made out that the well was not very deep.
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