“I t'ought youse was soft on her,” replied the mucker, “an' dat's de reason w'y youse otter not go first; but wot's de use o' chewin', les flip a coin to see w'ich goes an w'ich stays—got one?”
Theriere felt in his trousers' pocket, fishing out a dime.
“Heads, you go; tails, I go,” he said and spun the silver piece in the air, catching it in the flat of his open palm.
“It's heads,” said the mucker, grinning. “Gee! Wot's de racket?”
Both men turned toward the village, where a jabbering mob of half-caste Japanese had suddenly appeared in the streets, hurrying toward the hut of Oda Yorimoto.
“Somepin doin', eh?” said the mucker. “Well, here goes—s'long!” And he broke from the cover of the jungle and dashed across the clearing toward the rear of Oda Yorimoto's hut.
CHAPTER XII. THE FIGHT IN THE PALACE
BARBARA HARDING heard the samurai in the room beyond her prison advancing toward the door that separated them from her. She pressed the point of the daimio's sword close to her heart. A heavy knock fell upon the door and at the same instant the girl was startled by a noise behind her—a noise at the little window at the far end of the room.
Turning to face this new danger, she was startled into a little cry of surprise to see the head and shoulders of the mucker framed in the broken square of the half-demolished window.