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Chapter 17 GETTING OUT OF THE MUD

Clay's face plainly expressed the dismay he felt as he bent over the gunwale and looked downward in the growing light of the morning. The Rambler lay in a bed of soft, oozy mud, with harder ground between her and the "tow-head."

"I presume," Alex. said, "that the people of this country will be glad to see that the river lowered in the night! So

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