“Well, I’m going to keep it,” said Frank, as he dropped it into his pocket. “It is a curiosity, at least.”
They walked eastward to Broadway, neither of them having much to say. Near the Fifth Avenue Hotel they paused at a lighted window, and Frank took the stick from his pocket to examine it again. Standing there, he turned it over and over, feeling a strange sensation of mystery settling upon him.
“Starbright,” he said, “I’d give something to know just what sort of a find I’ve made.”
“I don’t think it will ever prove very profitable,” said Dick.
Two men were passing at that moment. They were dressed in ordinary clothes, but beneath their hats were coiled queues, for they were Chinamen.
One of them espied the stick in Frank’s hand. He seized the other, held him fast, and pointed. Both stared in great excitement. Then they darted forward with catlike footsteps.
It happened that Starbright saw them in time, and he knocked aside the yellow hand that was outstretched to grasp the mysterious stick.
“Look out, Frank!”
The other fellow tried to snatch the stick, but Dick’s warning cry had put Merry on his guard.
“No, you don’t!” said Frank, springing back.