They moved swiftly down upon us in silence--swords and pikes gleaming.
The Smiting Thing rocked toward us, the metal tentacle straining out like a rigid, racing serpent, flying to cut between its weird mistress and those who menaced her.
I heard Chiu-Ming scream; saw him throw up his hands, cover his eyes--run straight upon the pikes! "Chiu-Ming!" I shouted.

"Chiu-Ming! This way!" I ran toward him.

Before I had gone five paces Ventnor flashed by me, revolver spitting.

I saw a spear thrown.

It struck the Chinaman squarely in the breast.