In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Mr. S. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk.
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