"Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. He seemed to be thinking hard. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh.
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