Maybe half a year, counting this summer. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women's dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, except Mrs. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more.
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