“S'pose Mellikan man want to catchee lettel. He spotty Chinaman. He follee Chinaman. Chinaman passee lettel nex' Chinaman. He no get. Mellikan man no habe got. Sabe?”
“Then this package will go back the same way?”
“Allee same.”
“And who will YOU give it to now?”
“Allee same man blingee me lettel. Hop Li—who makee washee.”
An idea here struck Cissy which made her heart jump and her cheeks flame. Ah Fe gazed at her with an infantile smile of admiration.
“How far did that letter come?” she asked, with eager questioning eyes.
“Lettee me see him,” said Ah Fe.
Cissy handed him the missive; he examined closely some half-a-dozen Chinese characters that were scrawled along the length of the outer fold, and which she had innocently supposed were a part of the markings of the rice paper on which the note was written.
“Heap Chinaman velly much walkee—longee way! S'pose you look.” He pointed through the open front door to the prospect beyond. It was a familiar one to Cissy,—the long Canada, the crest on crest of serried pines, and beyond the dim snow-line. Ah Fe's brown finger seemed to linger there.