“We just want to catch that Chow Fun,” put in Hunter. “I’ll wager he’s a bad one,—and a daring one, too,—or he wouldn’t hang so close around the enemy.”
“It’s a bad plan to trust all of the so-styled Christian Chinese,” said Gilbert. “They are no more religious than their heathen brothers, and they will all stab us in the back if they can. I don’t believe one in ten is, at heart, a real out-and-out Christian.”
There was little chance to say more, for the plunging of the horses rendered conversation difficult. The road was better than close to the river, but still full of holes; and once Casey was thrown, and Gilbert was afraid the Irishman had broken his neck.
“Are you hurt, Dan?” he cried.
“The—the wind is out av—av me!” gasped Dan. “But there’s nothin’ busted but me—me timper. Bad cess to ye, you villain!” And, rising to his feet, he belabored his steed so earnestly that the horse pranced in all directions.
“Don’t do that, Dan,” went on Gilbert. “It will do no good. The horse didn’t go into the hole for fun. It’s a wonder he didn’t break a leg.”
“He’s got no sinse, lieutenant,” growled the Irishman. “Sure, an’ why didn’t he look where he’s afther goin’?” He leaped again into the saddle, and held a close rein, and the remainder of the journey was passed without any further trouble.
At the consulate all was dark save for a light on the porch of the rather pretty building. A guard was out, who informed them that the consul and his guests were all asleep.
“You must have the consul aroused at once,” said Gilbert. “Tell him I have a message for him of great importance.” And then he added in a lower tone, “Has he any Chinese around?”
“Not just now.”