Ling was like a raging beast. Stamping with his feet, he filled the air with the most terrible Chinese oaths--and there is no language in the world richer in expletives than the dialect of Southern China. The man's rage lasted no more than a moment. Determined not to allow Men-Ching to get out of sight, he looked about him for some method of following in pursuit. His eyes fell immediately upon a small sailing sampan, with a long oar fastened to the stern which did duty as a rudder.
"That will serve my purpose," he exclaimed, and then, lifting his great voice to the full extent of his lungs, he shouted after the wupan.
"Men-Ching," he cried, "you can never hope to evade me. Go north to beyond the Great Wall, or south to Singapore, and the mighty Ling shall follow."
Then, turning, he beheld Frank Armitage at his elbow.
"And you shall come with me," he roared. "There must be two of us to manage the boat."
He bundled the boy, neck and crop, into the sampan, and a few minutes later they were flying down-stream in pursuit of the wupan, upon the broad waters of the great West River that flows through the mammoth city of Canton.
[CHAPTER XIII--HOW FRANK WAS CAUGHT IN THE TOILS]
Throughout the greater part of the morning the pursuit continued without the sampan gaining upon the larger boat. Indeed, when they had sailed a few miles towards the east it became apparent to Ling that they were losing ground, that the distance between the two boats was gradually becoming greater.
The man was infuriated. He stood at his great height in the bows of the sampan from time to time, shaking his fist at the scarlet coat of Men-Ching, who was plainly visible upon the deck of the river-junk. After a time, however, Ling's wrath subsided; and seating himself, he confined his attention to the management of the sail. Frank, who was in the stern of the boat, had received orders to steer.
Ling shrugged his great shoulders and came out with a kind of grunt.