"I think we had better pitch him into the river," said Mr. Chefoo, "and leave him to get out as best he can."
"Yes," said Clarence, "he deserves a ducking, if no more."
"No, we won't be so cruel as that," Mr. Reid replied, "although he may have been after no good. We'll go ashore at the next village and leave him."
"But first," said Clarence, "hadn't you better search him? He may have taken something of value."
"Yes, uncle," said Mallard, "we ought to do that."
To this both Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn consented; but, though close investigation was made, nothing was found on the man, nothing, at least, to which they could lay claim.
Mr. Reid gave the signal for the sampan to be headed again up the river. In the meanwhile, Clarence and Mallard kept watch upon the man, who had now assumed a squatting posture upon the floor of the sampan. To their surprise he began to mutter to himself. But even to Mr. Chefoo the words were unintelligible; all except the part of one sentence. In this Mr. Chefoo said had occurred the words, "Marble Pagoda," but he was evidently still as much mystified as the others.
The village to which they soon came was one of considerable size, picturesquely situated in the midst of chestnut groves. There were too, many beautiful clumps of the umbrella pine over which vines of red and white roses luxuriantly abloom were running riot.
A curious crowd swarmed around them at the landing. There were many in it who had never seen a foreigner. The soft hair and white skins of our friends called forth the most intense curiosity. Ridiculous too, were some of the comments. Question after question was directed to them. Some of these Mr. Chefoo answered. To others he paid no attention.
Who were they? Whence had they come? Were their families respectable? Did their ancestors occupy tombs on the hillside? Could they take off their eyes and pull out their teeth as it had been reported that they could? All of these and many more came in rapid succession.