schoolboy-lifeguard-10

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Subject: Schoolboy Lifeguard 10 This is entirely a work of fiction and all the named characters are fictitious and any relation to persons living or dead is purely unintentional. This story is set around the start of the Second World War and thereafter based around the experiences of a typical British secondary schoolboy living in Southern England who has succeeded in his quest to work hard saving up money towards his passage to Melbourne, Australia to live with his uncle and aunt during the early part of the war to escape the bombing. These are his Australian adventures having arrived safely in Melbourne following a ten week voyage on a liner. Schoolboy lifeguard part ten. AKA, The boy in the red bathing suit. Chapter ten, Tom’s mission. With the passing of Christmas and Boxing Day, it became the ideal time to set out for Beechworth and look up Jack Rushington’s family having promised the old digger that I would. Armed with his parent’s address, I had previously called the operator from the phone box on the corner of North and Hawthorn roads requesting a directory enquiry when bingo; those people are still there with a good number and therefore I asked to place a three minute call. As this was what’s known as a trunk call, this could only be paid for by paying the money over the counter at the post office which fortunately was open and having already paid. I waited for the operator to call me and thankfully I didn’t have to wait long. The female operator introduced herself saying. “Mrs. Rushington.” . . . “Yes,” . . “I have a British schoolboy named Tom Fullbrick calling from Melbourne wishing to speak to you regarding Jack Rushington,” she was howling in surprise before she collected her thoughts asking. “Is this a joke?” when the operator then questioned me and I replied. “I have promised Mr. Rushington that I will contact his family and as a boy scout, this is the reason I am placing the call,” There was silence on the line for a few moments when the operator said. “Putting you through now.” I used up my entire three minutes worth finding there just wasn’t enough time to say everything I wanted so in the final seconds of the call I said. “I’m coming there on the train,” when the call was terminated having ran out of time. Having anticipated this, I had my overnight bag including my blanket bed roll with blanket pins already packed in my backpack including my swimming kit, water bottle, mess kit with some food and my army ground sheet cape which I lashed onto the luggage carrier with my American army pup tent. I gave the WW1 BSA bicycle a thorough check over which entailed cleaning and oiling the chain and the hubs, adjusted the brakes, tapped the spokes, unpacked my bicycle spanners, tyre levers and puncture outfit and finally blew up the tyres in readiness for an early morning departure to catch the train at Spencer Street. The tram conductor protested at my bringing a bicycle on board which was quickly rectified by undoing the hinge bolts and folding it up, I questioned in my mind as to why he did this as there was only a few passengers on the tram. Once I arrived at Flinders Street it only took a moment to unfold the bicycle and do up the blots and having rehearsed this task several times I got this down to a fine art. Spencer Street was only a couple of blocks away where I bought a seven day return ticket in anticipation of a sleepover, hopefully at the Rushington’s residence, if not, at least I could erect my pup tent somewhere and cook some porridge, soup or brew up tea with a Blackies Tommy’s cooker albeit with some National dried milk from the seven pint tin which came out with me, any more food which I may require could be bought at a local shop along with methylated spirits to refill the Blackies cooker and Brillo pads to clean my mess kit. I boarded the Sydney express to Wangaratta from where I would catch the connecting train to Beechworth having put my bike in the guard’s compartment alongside another bike. Thanks to striking up a conversation with a blond haired lad of my age and size wearing only tee shirt and obscenely tailored high leg low rise Edward Fletcher (Stubbies) shorts the same as mine who’s also traveling on the return half of his ticket. He told me about Lake Sambell which he described as a ripper of a swimming hole where all the locals swim. We exchanged names and addresses and when I told him where I was going, he offered to ride along with me, things were getting better by the minute and when he said his name was Kenny McAllister, I shook hands with him and said. “Kenny, I’ve got something to show you,” and took out `The night walker’ book from my back pack and passed it to him, when he saw the inside cover I could swear his eyes might have popped right out of his head when he uttered. “Jesus bloody wept!-where did you get this book? I want to know as Andrew McAllister happens to be my great grandfather.” “Mr. Rushington’s father happens to be the author and I am on my way to see his son who’s now an old man. This book actually came from my school library back home in England.” Kenny and I spoke for ages recounting our stories and he couldn’t stop laughing when I told him about Old Peepynose (Rushington) working as a gamekeeper and how both he and old Bert mentored me in the arts of poaching and living out in the country. My gaydar has never let me down and having young Kenny sat next to me on the train certainly was setting it off like alarm bells as he was really hot, especially for a strong healthy country lad and I daresay his was definitely going off as well as he was first to get an erection tenting out his shorts and he caught me looking at it when he whispered. “I know you want this but we can’t do it here, wait till you get to my place and I guarantee you that book’s your ticket to a sleepover plus heaps more fun afterwards.” Having arrived at Wangaratta, we caught the connecting train to Beechworth with its wooden carriages commonly described as a red rattler. The carriages were like some of the ones back in England without a connecting corridor so I trusted Kenny’s judgment when to have sex on the train which wasn’t long in coming. No sooner had the train pulled out of the station. Kenny pulled out his well used small towel which is his cum rag, draped it over the seat then stripped naked and beckoned me to do the same. I reached into my backpack for the special lube and lubed up my huge nine inches of man sized cock whilst Kenny stroked his eight inches of fat cock to full hardness. I haven’t thought in my wildest dreams that I would be having sex on the outward bound part of my train journey and here I was, about to sink my monster into a fit and healthy young rugged country boy with a satyr maniac sex drive who’s cavernous rear hole didn’t even need spreading out and he sighed a huge sigh of relief when I finally pushed my cock right in to my balls after he bent over the seat supporting himself with his arms as he began moaning in pleasure at my having filled him right up. There was no doubting that this boy has taken a lot of huge cocks up his hole, especially with the ease which I plowed into him and when the effects of the lube took effect he was moaning like a bitch saying. “You’re the best one yet.” My lust for this boy was coursing through me like an express train with those wonderful feelings building up inside my breasts when my nipples began leaking into my tee shirt. My huge monster certainly done wonders to his secret love button and boy, when he shot his bolt, it came out like a fire hose in long gushes as his powerful orgasm racked right through him with the poor boy screaming and seeing stars aided by my load flooding into his bowels in several gushes. After coming down from our highs and cleaning ourselves up with his well used cum rag, he saw the wetness on my tee shirt surrounding my nipple pokies and gasped when I asked. “Here Kenny, how would escort izmit you like a drink?” I couldn’t hike my tee shirt up fast enough for this boy who, within seconds was nursing off my breasts like a baby totally draining them of their contents before curling up on a seat and taking a nap. I had to wake him as the train began slowing down for its first stop telling him to get dressed and hoping no one else would enter our compartment seeing the wetness around my nipples on my tee shirt. We saw really stunning views from the train windows on its gentle climb into the high country which Kenny said that we were going up almost 2’000 feet into the mountains. I thought. `Only god could create such a wonderful country.’ It really was an artists dream to see such beauty all around us and seeing farms amongst the bush country I knew in my heart that despite the war the people here are more self sufficient on food production, what with cheaper meat and dairy produce prices than in England. The train arrived at Beechworth station consisting of a single weatherboard building with a platform besides two tracks and a water tower. Only seven people got off the train and the guard was waiting to hand us our bicycles. Kenny’s bike was a right old crate with worn out tyres, no brakes, cow horn styled handlebars made by the local blacksmith and a single fixed gear, so much so that I’ve seen discarded bikes in better condition at the local corporation dump in England and there’s one I built from parts parked in dad’s shed at Garden Cottages which, with hindsight I wish I brought it out with me as I would gladly let him have it. We rode away from the station along dirt roads with Kenny leading the way through the town with its impressive looking post office and town hall despite many of its streets remaining unchanged since the gold rush with hardly any cars to be seen when we finally arrived at his family’s weatherboard property at the Mayday Hills district near the sanatorium. Kenny led me into the house calling out. “Mum, dad, I’ve brought a lad who’s from the old country and he’s brought a ripper of a book with him which was presented to grandfather.” That certainly got his parents attention when she said. “Kenny dear, please put the kettle on for our guest and make a pot of tea.” He checked the kettle then placed it onto an old cast iron range cooker whilst his father looked briefly through the book then uttered with his raspy strong accented voice. “Jesus bloody wept Tommo, this book just happens to be our family heirloom, how did you get hold of it?” “It came from the school library back in the old country,” “There you are sonny, you’re even starting to speak like an Aussie calling England `The Old Country’, how’s the war going?” I must have spent ages recounting all my stories with one cup of tea and biscuits followed by beer and smokes with the inevitable getting tipsy and with all the traveling the next thing I became aware of is lying in a double bed totally naked with Kenny fast asleep next to me in a room illuminated by a single oil lamp hearing a loud ticking emanating from a large nickel plated Canadian made Westclox repeating alarm clock busting for the toilet and having to get out of bed, out through the back door of the house to a rickety tiny shed marked `Dunny’ on the door, as I sat down on the seat, I felt a sudden intense stinging pain on my bottom like a red hot needle being stuck in my arse and screamed my heart out in pain whilst shit was coming out of my arse and having to put the bit between my teeth dumping shit and piss with an intensely painful throbbing arse. My screams certainly woke Kenny’s father up who came out of the house with his double barreled 12 bore shotgun when he realized my plight and tapped me on the back saying. “You’ll be right mate, it’s only a redback what’s bitten you although you might feel a bit crook afterwards, come on, I’ll give you a sleeping pill to help you sleep.” Kenny and I were woken up at 5 am by his father saying. Hurry up you two, get your togs on and get over to Danny Master’s farm right away and help him milk his cows. I gazed at the alarm clock thinking. `What god awful time is this?” The pain in my arse had died down although he gave me two codeine tablets. We didn’t have time for showers just grabbing a couple of biscuits with a glass of lemon squash then rode out to their farm two miles away to be greeted by Dennis, their fifteen year old son and his twelve year old younger brother Pete. I quickly realized that farms don’t stop working, even for Christmas and their whole family was milking their cows-by hand into buckets which when full was tipped into churns. Pete showed me how to milk a cow by hand and thankfully I caught on quickly having watched Old Peepynose. Having milked the cows and just in time too for the local dairy truck had arrived to collect the churns for pasteurization prior to bottling and storage in their refrigerated store. They certainly fed us a very hearty fried egg, bacon, black pudding and baked beans breakfast watered down with strong tea which certainly filled us right up. Their boys really were a beautiful pair and very closely bonded as well but it was their close resemblance to Dylan which struck me like a thunderbolt so over tea and smokes I asked them about their family history when their mum brought out a huge family bible, she opened it to a section with entries starting from London’s east end when I saw it. There in black and white was Dylan’s father’s entry which I pointed out to them and their mum went and brought out a shoe box containing all their letters. I looked through the huge bundle looking for letters postmarked fifteen to twenty years ago when I found the smoking gun mentioning Dylan’s birth and christening. This was irrefutable proof that these people are his family. I had a long story to tell. Coming from England, I told them about the war and gently broke it to them that his parents were killed when their house was bombed, Danny immediately saw it as the family’s duty to take care of Dylan and we couldn’t get him here fast enough. Thankfully he agreed for him to live with us during term time to complete his education and return to Beechworth during the holidays. I placed a person to person call to Dylan at my Uncle’s house to give him the news and he went wild with excitement at learning he had more family living here at Beechworth, I asked him to prepare his backpack with some clothes, cape groundsheet, blanket bedroll, his swimming trunks and his bicycle to catch the train the following morning from Spencer Street arranging to meet him at Beechworth station when both Dennis and Pete Masters knocked on the door asking Kenny and I to go swimming with them at Lake Sambell. It was a thoroughly enjoyable ride to the lake which looked huge and was dammed by a wall finally arriving to see local kids swimming naked in the lake and sunning themselves, many of who had all over suntans without a care in the world. Some kids did wear swimsuits which I later learned if their parents could afford them. At this time of day there were very few adults and older teenagers to be seen as they were obviously working although there were a few soldiers here home on Christmas leave with their families. We entered the almost crystal clear waters of the lake totally naked and being a powerful swimmer I swam right across to the other side and back thoroughly enjoying the freedom of swimming naked which didn’t take long for my cock to fully erect like a flagpole adding joy to my experience with my swim certainly being noticed by the locals when an old grey haired leathery skinned dark suntanned man who must be in his sixties wearing only Edward Fletcher (Stubbies) schoolboy footy shorts came up to me saying. “I watched you swim across and I must say, you’re really good, have you ever thought of becoming a lifeguard as we could izmit escort certainly use a few round here, by the way, I’m a retired schoolteacher, Jim Rushington’s the name,” we shook hands when I suddenly found out that Jim’s powerful grip almost crushed my hand. I recounted my experiences both in England and Australia which certainly got this man’s attention. Thankfully the few local soldiers home on leave volunteered to look after the kids using the lake but there just aren’t enough of them and I agreed to do my bit for them. I mentioned about Dylan arriving on the next day’s train from Melbourne and about our experiences of working together as lifeguards which really got his attention, especially when I told him that Dylan just happens to be Danny master’s nephew. That old man’s face lit up like a beacon. We made shit loads of small talk when Jim’s conversation changed to the night of the 19th of October 1917, known as the silent Zeppelin raid owing to the airships flying above the clouds which was the night Jim lost his wife when a bomb destroyed his Hither Green, London home whilst he was on fire watch and losing his sixteen year old son on the first day of the Battle of the Somme having lied about his age and now another war is raging in Europe just a single generation later. Having came out of the water stark naked I certainly noticed him gazing at my cock which even in its shriveled and shrunken state with my balls shrunk to a ball owing to the water, it was still a good fat five inches which would be the size of most teenage boys he’s seen during his career with erections in sports changing rooms and as I dried in the sun it resumed its soft state of seven and a half inches. I just kept a straight face and carried on the conversation waiting for him to make his move when he asked. “Fancy a lemon squash as I’ve brought my flask with me, you boys really loves my lemon squash straight from my lemon tree sweetened with honey.” I thought. `That’s a new one on me’ which I couldn’t resist trying. I saw both Pete and Dennis were still playing around in the water like young boys do giving each other piggy backs and having piggy back fights with two other boys of about their age who were also naked whilst Kenny lay their basking in the sun. It became obvious to me that they were totally carefree here at the lake whilst probably having sex with each other during sleepovers. I called out to them. “Jim’s just offered me some lemon squash and I’ll catch you in a few minutes.” Kenny just sat up and replied. “OK.” I followed Jim to his bicycle from where he pulled out a huge one quart Aladdin’s Stanley vacuum flask, unscrewed the cup and stopper and poured me a cupful which had a lump of ice floating in the liquid, I sipped the ice cold liquid which certainly was the best lemon squash I’ve tasted then finished the cup complimenting him for making such an excellent drink. It was when I passed him the cup I saw he had an erection tenting out his shorts when he said. “You’re sporting a lovely large cock for a young fellow and you wouldn’t be the only boy I’ve had either, fancy some playtime?” Oh, he’s made his move all right and there’s no doubting that he wants either to fuck my arse or drink my spunk when I replied. “You’ll have to show me where as I’m in a strange town.” “Just come with me.” He led me into the bush about a football pitch’s distance then started fondling and caressing me very sensually, so much so that all of my skin was tingling all over, my nine inches of monstrously fat cock was fully hard dripping my pre-cum love juices onto the ground with beads of breast milk appearing at my nipples and just the sight really astonished Jim when he asked. “What’s your name kid and how old are you?” “Tom Fullbrick and I am fourteen.” A look of total surprise came over his face when he replied. “You’re the English kid from Melbourne who’s phoned me up about a book you’ve brought over from the Old Country, I’ve been expecting you.” “I thought. `What a co-incidence, it’s Mr.Rushington and he’s just about to fuck my arse.” “Jesus bloody wept, a fourteen year old kid with a cock like a horse who’s both a spunker and a milker, I’m really going to enjoy my time with you and I love your girl’s breasts,” as he sensually fondled and cupped them brushing his thumbs over my nipples sending jolts of pleasures right through me. I asked. “Can’t we just go to your place?” “Not with my wife around although she’s already expecting you to come and visit with your book.” He knelt down and licked the love juices off my cock and sucked it for a few strokes before turning his attention to my breasts which by now had those lovely feelings inside when he began licking off the drips on my nipples then latched onto one when I felt its sweetness flowing into his mouth, I knew there wasn’t much there when he latched onto the other breasts and emptied that whilst my cock became even harder tingling like hell dropping gobs of pre-cum onto the ground and when he looked, he thought I had shot my bolt. He had me bent over a nearby fallen tree then stuck his fingers with loads of Vaseline up my arse before slowly pushing his cock right into my balls and having previously heard the playground stories of old men who can’t get it up any more, this certainly wasn’t the case with Jim with his rock hard cock equal to that of a teenager when he began thrusting into me like a rapist grunting so much I swore my mates in or near the water could hear us and most likely come to investigate knowing that teenage boys love witnessing the spectacle of either a girl or a boy being given a thoroughly good rooting which is what the aussies call a fucking and thank god he shot his bolt quickly filling my bowels with the finest vintage spunk and his load was nothing like the load I was about to fire into him knowing if he doesn’t go and dump my load into the lake, he’ll be returning home to his wife with shit loads of spunk in both his undies, assuming he’s wearing them and his shorts. Jim positioned himself over the fallen tree passing me his tin of Vaseline and having already seen and handled my monstrous teenage schoolboy’s cock, he certainly knew what he’s in for, I would say this old digger was definitely confident about having it up there otherwise he would have ran off somewhere into the bush probably pleading rape. After lubing up, that’s when I saw the huge size of his rear hole which I swore you could hide a cannonball up there. My cock went straight in and despite having erected to the hardness it’s ever been, it was rattling inside his hole like a pea in a whistle, this had to be one seriously worn out hole and yet it felt good being in there knowing I could pound the life out of him and not hurt him so I just settled into a nice rhythm alternating between holding his hips and bending over his back to massage his nipples when I got the surprise of my life as they were now rock hard and half as long as my smallest finger as though a small boys cock became erect from a button and they were also dripping. I couldn’t resist tasting it and licked my fingers to find mine was creamier and sweeter. That doctor in Melbourne did tell me that you are what you eat and with that being the case, perhaps a few tweaks with his diet may improve things. The upshot of tasting what came out of his nipples definitely triggered my lustful thoughts when I felt my balls tingling as they churned up my load with the sensations on my cock building up with my cock twitching powerfully inside him as huge gushes of spunk fired into his bowels and kept gushing out back past my cock plastering my balls, pubic hairs and his arse with loads of spunk whilst he moaned in ecstacy and even I had to stifle my screams until my orgasm subsided when we both walked back totally naked and entered the water where I watched him crouch down and saw him shit out a white cloud into the izmit kendi evi olan escort water followed by me doing the same then both of us swam around for a bit. I saw Kenny’s expression on his face and realized that he already knew what we’ve been up to knowing that he won’t be going home with my spunk filling his underpants and shorts. We left the water saying our goodbyes with his invitation to visit him at his home that afternoon when I rejoined my naked new friends back in the water before returning to Kenny’s house for lunch popping in at Pete Masters’s place on the way whose mum poured us some of her lemon squash. After lunch I rode around on my bike exploring the town with its streets looking like those I saw in western movies gradually becoming enamored with the place as I began to see that this town had a character, probably like most country towns in the bush and being almost 2,000 feet up, I had already learned that hot days here were cooler than in the city plus they have snow in the winter, albeit in what are the summer months back in England. It was when I passed by a weatherboard house with the front door broken into with a grimy looking young teenage lad wearing a tattered tee shirt and well worn shorts and shoes stood in the front garden with two cops crying his eyes out with clouds of flies swarming around the place when I caught the smell of rotting flesh. I felt I had to comfort him and as I pulled him into a comforting hug. I realized I had seen this boy on the train and watched him run like a rabbit out of the station being chased by the ticket collector towards the town. The cops told me to nick off which I refused saying loudly. “Who the blazes do you think you are telling me to nick off!” Can’t you see he’s distressed and what the hell’s going on here.” “He’s escaped from juvenile prison only to arrive home and find her dead.” I asked the cop. “What’s he done?” “He’s busted out with less than a week left of his sentence to come here, no doubt after hearing the news about his mum.” “And your lot are going to send him back, what’s the bloody point, he’s better off staying here and besides, he’s a mate and mates stick up for each other, you should think about calling the local magistrate to hear his case.” “If you can let us know who he will be staying with, I’m sure the boss will OK it.” “He’ll be staying either with the McAllister’s or the Masters.” “You two stick together like glue and let me know by this evening who he’s staying with so I can call the prison and let them know the situation.” “I’m taking him straight to the McAllister’s, come on mate.” I wheeled my bike as we walked back to Kenny’s house whilst hearing his tearful and painful recounting of events yet here was I trying to comfort a teenager of similar age who just moments ago I would have defended from the devil himself and I hadn’t yet asked for his name, all in good time. I arrived back at Kenny’s house like the cat dragging something in and having to explain this lad’s situation, she took one look at his tear stained grimy face and said. “This boy badly needs a bath and those rags on him need washing and mending, sonny, when did you last eat?” “Yesterday morning when I stole a bar of chocolate.” “When you’ve finished your bath I’ll fix you something to eat and drink.” She lit up the old time wood chip bath heater which seemed to take ages to heat up the water, meanwhile I fished my towel from my room then dived into my backpack for some money and shot off on my bike to the local shop for some carbolic soap then asked if the clothes shop was open. I rode back giving him the carbolic soap then got his sizes from his clothes, stood beside him comparing feet which are my size, emptied my backpack onto the bed and rode to the local men’s shop buying him three pairs of undies and socks, two pairs of Edward Fletcher (Stubbies) shorts), two tee shirts, a pair of stout working lace up shoes, toothbrush and toothpaste and a men’s grooming pack inside a stout wallet then returned back to Kenny’s house arriving to find his mum giving the lad a thoroughly good wash and scrub and she had no qualms about washing a naked teenage boy either like he was her own son. After getting out of the bath, she led him out into the back garden still naked and rinsed him down with the garden hose then dried him off with my towel. I led him to the bedroom where he got dressed into the clothes I just bought him and from the grooming set he stood in front of the mirror and finally combed his hair. Now he looked handsome and very presentable when for the first time I saw his red hair with freckled face and the most striking blue eyes, he really looked like another person altogether when he shook my hand to properly introduce himself. That first meeting that day struck up a friendship to last the rest of our days. “Donald Kilby’s the name, I know you’re a pom by your accent and you are.” “Tom Fullbrick, I know it’s a strange name and shit loads of others have been calling me Fullprick since my first day at school.” “Fullprick eh, I bet you live up to your name and all.” “You could say that, I’m fourteen and with a name like mine there’s always someone who wants to get their hand inside my pants.” “We’re both the same age and that damn youth prison’s full of sex starved lads who all want to get their pricks up inside your arse and I don’t mind telling you I’ve been raped in there so help me God; I never want to go back there again. All the kids in there are worse than animals, I’m telling you, you don’t want to meet up with one of them in a dark place at night either, they’re all bloody criminals.” “So what have you done to get yourself locked up?” “There’s a place called Reid’s creek which is a ripper of a swimming hole, it’s where I go to cool off in the heat, I’ll take you there some time. I took a short cut across a property when lo and behold I found a nugget of gold in the ground and picked it up. The farmer saw me and caught me with it in my pocket, when he’s pointing a 12 bore at you, you don’t argue, because I found it on his property, its his, he called the cops and I was charged with stealing his gold nugget, went to court and got sent to jail for three months. When I learned that mum was ill, I asked to be let out to go to her and the bastards refused so I broke out of there with what I wore, hitched truck rides to Wangaratta where I stole a ride on the train arriving home to find mum dead in her bed and the house full of flies when the cops came.” “I said to the cops that you may be staying with the Masters family, was it their property which you were picked up on?” “Yes it was, all that bludger had to do was take it off me and send me on my way, I didn’t want to say anything otherwise they would have me carted off back there. Before this happened I’ve never been in trouble with anyone-ever. I done well in school and knuckled down at their school lessons as well, I can prove it to you as all my school reports are in the house with the rest of my belongings and my school books, I just want to get back to school and finish what I started-my education.” I said. “Look, you are going up before the magistrate in the morning where they will decide your fate and whether they’ll decide to send you back there. Right now we need to start planning your defence, they have to be in no doubt that someone is going to take care of you and the ideal situation is living with another family. Now there is a way to clear your name. Have you heard of iron pyrites? It’s called fools gold, if he has any remorse for what he’s done to you, he will be there at the hearing tomorrow stating that he’s left that nugget in a drawer and forgot about it, months later when he finds it again is when he discovers that its fools gold, all he has to do is make his declaration to that effect to the court and apologise for what he’s put you through which should be enough to clear your name.” “You should be a bloody lawyer as you’re one hell of a clever bastard.” “Are you ready to face old man Masters?” “Let’s do it.” Dylan arrives by train; Donald faces Mr. Masters and has his day in court in part 11.

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