"She is much the more likely to die if you bring her to Chinatown," I argued.
Big Sam's face recovered its firm determination, and I saw that the superstition and ancestor-worshiping elements imbibed with his mother's milk had overwhelmed education and reason in the crisis at which he felt he had arrived.
"I must look to my own welfare," he said with decision. "A war among the tongs would be fatal to the interests of the Chinese. And if the girl dies--especially if she dies under the white doctor's care--it would be quite beyond my power to prevent an outbreak."
"I have no doubt your interests are important," I began, when he interrupted me.
"Important! they are everything. I must ask you to see that the girl is returned here this morning. I will send for two of our best Chinese doctors to care for her."
"I protest against your decision," I said.
"It is not your place to protest or assent," said. Big Sam, with an air of command.
"Nor to act against my judgment," I added.
"Oh, if you refuse to act, I must find another messenger," said Big Sam calmly. "Permit me to thank you for what you have done, and to say that when I can be of service I am yours to command." The dignity and courtesy with which he spoke were almost regal.
"Oh, I refuse nothing," I replied. "But you will have to reckon with another person than me. I shall take your request to Miss Kendrick; but, whatever I may think about it, the final decision will be in her hands."