. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Without a word, without a sign, Enschede started toward the beach, where his proa waited. “But you must forgive me, John. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke.
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