What are those little red circles?" O'Higgins asked, rising and inspecting the map. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether.
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