Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. But this I cannot do. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. " "He shall go through the whole course," replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin, "unless he comes down to the last grig.
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