Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. Darrell, however, rose again instantly; and though mortally wounded, made a desperate effort to regain the boat. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. Still unconscious of anything he did physically. CHAPTER XXXI.
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