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vegus168 bet "I don't believe you will find many hands down here, Mr. Pennant," said Mike in a whisper. "I see you are; but you decline to permit the surgeon to dress your wound. I have no more time to fool with you, and the men will put you on a berthsack forward. If you want the surgeon to attend to your wound, you have only to say so." "Twenty-eight years." "Only four!" exclaimed Mr. Pennant. "Are you telling me the truth, Uncle Job?"