"We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. She trembled; but she did not know why. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. "I have had Kanakas who could read and write in Dutch, and English, though. It has been purchased by blood!" "What! have you cut old Wood's throat?" asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag.
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