He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. " "That is to say, you wish you had let me die?" "That was the thought. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs.
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