One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. "Hear me!" cried Thames, bursting into tears. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground.
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