The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station.
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