“Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. The island was snake-free. He hadn't played fair.
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