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below them the heaving ocean, high above them the jagged
and glistening rocks, and at their feet the black and mur-
derous abyss of the Blowhole—empty.
They pulled up the useless rope in silence; and another
dead tree lighted and lowered showed them nothing.
‘God rest his puir soul,’ said McNab, shuddering. ‘He’s
out o’ our han’s now.’
1 For the Term of His Natural Life
