I can't bear it. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Heard voices. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground.
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