Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank.
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