You'll know it by the bark having been laid open to the grain somewhere low down.
Five hundred dollars he offered me--to be--selling you out--sir!" Freckles' head rolled over and his eyes dropped shut.

McLean towered above the lad.

His bright hair waved on the pillow.

His face was swollen, and purple with bruises.

His left arm, with the hand battered almost out of shape, stretched beside him, and the right, with no hand at all, lay across a chest that was a mass of purple welts.