The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. "How long will he be laid up?" "Three or four weeks, if he doesn't peg out during the night.
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