There were several prayer-papers and three anti-devil charms in the bag. In one lightning move, Chang slipped the sack over the unsuspecting dog’s head and forequarters; jamming a double handful of the loose canvas, gag-wise, into the protestingly parted jaws of the victim.
Swiftly and dextrously the man trussed up his prisoner; pinioning his indignant struggles with wily twists of the rope. Then, in the same scared haste, and murmuring Chinese spells, he heaved the squirming burden over his shoulder; and ran staggeringly from the house.
Across the dooryard he ran and out into the road. There, though the load was heavy and restless, he continued at as rapid speed as he could, through the darkness, until he came to the bend of the road, a furlong beyond; where the coulée began.
Just beyond the bend waited a car with dimmed lights; a bulky man crouching beside it. With an exclamation of joy, Fraser Colt hurried forward to meet the burden-bearer.
Eagerly, he snatched from Chang the indignantly tossing bag, and heaved it into the tonneau. Jumping to the driver-seat, he pressed the self-starter.
“Hey!” squealed Chang, as the machine woke into motion. “Hey, Mist’! Fo’ty doll’ I get, now. Gimme!”
He caught hold of the door, as he spoke, lifting himself to the running board.
“Sure!” pleasantly assented Colt. “You get what’s coming to you, Chinkie.”
As he spoke, he slugged his plump right fist to the point of the unsuspecting Chinaman’s jaw; and at the same time stepped on the accelerator. The car lurched forward. The Chinaman lurched back.