"Fox-terriers of the sea; friends with every ship that comes along. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh.
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