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CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CAT'S HOLIDAY
Chao Phya was revelling in his liberty. Dropped on the quay by a cabin-boy who had no time to find buyers or drive bargains, he had fled zigzag through a labyrinth of hurried and hostile shins. Wherever coolies were not too busy, rapacious arms had swooped at him, but these he readily dodged. At the dock-gate a small, red-queued Straits boy fell on him cleverly, and held hard; but kicking with science, scratching the chubby arms, he fought loose, wormed between the little baba's trousered legs hopped over his fat white soles, and raced down the wide street. A coal-black Tamil dropped his shovel with a clang, and gave chase; but fleshless Dravidian legs could not wobble fast enough. Presenting to all pursuers a tail up-
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