The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks. And he had gone away without knowing the truth! "My proa boys are ready; the wind is brisk; and in an hour we shall be beyond all pursuit. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. . A brief description will suffice for them. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. CHAPTER XXIX.
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