She waited expectantly. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. . Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. "Bravo!" shouted Blueskin. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel.
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