The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. You got my note?” “I certainly received a note,” Anna admitted.
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