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was his long, mixed-up whiskers. There warn't no color
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flesh crawl--a tree-toad white, a fish-belly white. As for his clothes--just rags, that was all. He had
one ankle resting on t'other knee; the boot on that foot was busted, and two of his toes stuck
through, and he worked them now and then. His
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all over. By and by he says:
"Starchy clothes--very. You think you're a good deal of a big-bug, DON'T you?"
"Maybe
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