ED FALLS INTO NEW HANDS.
It would seem as if the brothers of the Red Door tong were especially addicted to drugging.
Ed got his dose in the boat, as has been told.
When the boy awoke it was not to full consciousness. He felt like one in a dream.
He was lying in the bottom of a boat naked.
An old tarpaulin had been thrown over him, but just then Ed did not realize what it was.
He could feel the motion of the boat as it bobbed about. He could hear the lapping of the waves, but there were no other sounds until at last a steamboat whistle gave a dismal croak.
But each moment served to brighten the boy's brain, until at last he threw off the tarpaulin and sat up.
At first he fancied that he was still in the boat under that pier up in the Bronx.
Dim and misty were his recollections.
It seemed to Ed that the attack by the Chinamen, the shooting of Pow Chow, and all that followed, must have been a dream.
It was certainly the same boat, and there was nobody in it but himself.
A rope made it fast to a pile, it was floating about under the pier.
"I must have hit my head in some way," reasoned Ed. "That's what's the matter. Bless me, don't I feel queer! What strange dreams I have had! I suppose Pow Chow thinks I have been drowned."
He felt now that it was time to act, and he tried to stand up in the boat.
Very quickly Ed found that this would not work.
He was glad to sit down on the seat. If he had not done so he surely would have fallen.
Just then the boat began to move rapidly forward.
Looking, Ed saw that a hand was clutching the rope.
The boat was pulled out from under the pier and Ed saw a tough looking young man clinging to a standing ladder.
"Aw, say," he cried, "youse is come back to business, has you? Come up out of dat now. You must climb de ladder. De Chinks are waitin' for yer—see?"
"I—I can't!" gasped Ed. "I'm too dizzy."
"Yer must!" was the reply.
"But I shall fall into the water."
"No yer won't, and if yer do I'll be behind to ketch yer. Can't stop here without any clothes on—see?"
He jumped into the boat, continuing to urge Ed to make the move, which he presently did.
The man kept close behind him, and it was well that he did, for twice Ed lost his hold.
The fellow supported him, however, and he finally got upon the pier, where he sank down at the feet of two Chinamen.
"I guess youse has doped him half to de't, dat's what's de matter," said the man.
"He comee alle light. He comee lound allee light," chattered one of the Chinamen.
And sure enough, in a few minutes Ed found himself much better.
The other Chink had a suit of Chinese clothes, and he now ordered Ed to dress himself in them, which he was able to do with some help.
By this time the illusion had been dispelled.
Not only were these the same Chinamen, but Ed could see by the lights of the bridges that they were now away downtown, for he had studied the map of New York and he knew about where the bridges were located.
The two Chinamen now led him down the uncovered pier to South street, where an old ramshackle hack was waiting.
Ed got in unresistingly. He was too weak to help himself.
The tough proved to be the driver.
He got on the box, started up his horses and rounded them up in Chinatown.
During the ride Ed dropped off asleep and had to be aroused.
He was so weak and heavy that they had to almost carry him.
They passed through a narrow hallway and went down into a cellar.
Here a trap door was raised and they went still further down.
They were, in fact, descending into the secret dens of Pell street.
Ed was rounded up in a little room where there were several Chinese sleeping on mattresses which had been thrown on the floor.
All were boys. The place was abominably hot and smelled horribly.
There was no mattress for Ed.
He was told to lie down beside a boy who did not even arouse as he dropped upon it.
A moment later Ed was sound asleep.
And he must have slept very soundly—perhaps he was drugged again—for when he awoke he was in a smaller room, lying alone upon a cot-bed.
The room was dimly lighted by a lantern.
Ed found that he had been undressed also. He had nothing on but an old undershirt now.
After lying awake a long time he got up to see how he could stand it on his feet.
He found he was all right; a little shaky, perhaps, but so much better than he had been the night before that he felt that the effects of the drug had practically passed.
He tried the door and found it locked.
Window there was none. Escape thus seemed impossible, but the enterprising Ed did not give up.
He was resolved to know all about his prison before he did that.
In course of his search he took in the ceiling, and there he beheld a trap door.
It fascinated the boy, for it seemed to offer an avenue of escape.
No one coming, Ed resolved to make the attempt to reach it.
He looked around for clothes first, but there were none to be found.
Stripping the cot, he leaned it up against the wall under the trap door and climbed upon it.
He could now reach the trap and had some room to spare. Pushing on it, the door arose and fell back with noise enough to startle any one within hearing.
But evidently there was no one, for nothing happened.
Ed waited several minutes, and at last feeling himself safe, he caught hold and pulled himself up through the opening.
He found himself now in a dark narrow passage so low that he could not stand upright.
The lantern was needed. Why had he forgotten that?
It was necessary to get down on top of the cot again.
Ed made the descent, reached for the lantern, got it and returned.
"I suppose if I do succeed in reaching the street I shall be arrested," he said to himself, "but I don't care. Anything is better than being held a prisoner by these horrible Chinese."
He crept along the passage, which appeared to be of considerable length, at last coming upon three steps leading down to a door.
And now the boy caught the sound of strange music.
Some one was strumming on a banjo.
The tune was most monotonous, just the same thing over and over again.
"Chinese music," thought Ed. "That's one of their big moon banjos. I suppose I may as well go back. I'll only get myself into trouble if I try to butt in here."
But the music seemed to fascinate him, and he found it hard to pull away.
Creeping down the steps, he stood for some moments listening at the keyhole.
Feeling at last as if it really would be better for him to go, he was just about to pull away when, as he turned, the lantern hit hard against the door.
Instantly the music ceased.
Scared, Ed bounded up the steps and retreated along the passage.
But it was no use.
The door flew open and he could hear somebody coming after him.
Feeling that he might as well be caught in the passage as in the act of getting down through the trap door, Ed turned to face his pursuer.
He was a young Chinaman, very much Americanized in appearance.
He, like Ed, was forced to crouch low, and he looked very fierce as he thrust his ugly face forward close under Ed's nose.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "Say, who are you?"
"Don't kill me!" gasped Ed, feeling rather foolish when he had said it.
"Kill you nothing! Why should I kill you? Say, are you Dock Hing's prisoner?"
"I am a prisoner all right. I don't know Dock Hing."
"Listen! Are you the boy what did the diving?"
"Yes."
"Gee! Say, dis is great."
This Chink spoke English with a Bowery accent.
He seemed to be perfectly enraptured to have discovered Ed.
"Who's down dere?" he demanded, pushing past and peering down through the open trap.
"Nobody."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"You were trying to escape."
"I had to do the best I could for myself."
"You come with me, boy. What's your name?"
"Ed Butler."
"Oh, yair! I know! Go ahead dere now. Go now. I'll give you a kick—see?"
Ed traveled on down the steps and through the door.
The Chinaman following shot a bolt and turned to face the boy.
It was just a dingy little bedroom without a window and lighted by an ordinary lamp.
"Sit down," ordered the Chinaman, pointing to a chair.
He picked up a moon banjo out of another, and putting it on the floor sat down himself.
Then a fire of questions was thrown at Ed.
Nobody can ask questions like a Chinaman once he goes at it.
"You dived for that money?" was the first.
"Yes," replied Ed.
"You didn't get it?"
"I got a tin box. There was no money in it—only papers."
"What did they do to you?"
"They drugged me."
"Say, you are lucky to be alive. Dock Hing is a bad one. It's lucky for you that you met me. Say, I'll help you out of dis providin' you tell me de trute, dat is."
"What do you mean?"
"Dock Hing tinks you must have found two tin boxes down dere. Did yer?"
"What if I did?"
"Tell me de trute. We'll go for dat other box and divide. What do yer say?"
"Well, then, if you will have it, Dock Hing is right," Ed said. "I did see another box down there."
"I knowed it!" cried the fellow. "Gee! dis is great. Will you stand in wit me den and get dat box?"
"Yes, I will providing you will get me some clothes and help me to get out of this dreadful place," declared Ed.
"It's a bargain. Now where's de place?"
"That's the trouble," sighed Ed. "I was drugged when they took me there and I was drugged when they brought me away."
"Go ahead and tell me all you know. Mebbe I can dope it out."
Ed went over the few details he possessed.
The Chinaman continued to question him closely.
At last he declared that he felt pretty sure he could find the place.
"We can make a stab at it anyway," he said. "I'm wise. It's in the Bronx above Morris' Docks. We'll get up there to-night."
"And now that we are partners, what's your name?" Ed asked.
"You can call me Tom Quee," replied the Chinaman. "That's what I'm generally called."
It was no encouragement on top of this statement that at the same instant there came a loud knocking at the door.