F. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. “No, I’d like to. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood.
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