Liu made no reply for a moment. He was watching the ledge outside the entrance to the cave. The occasional rattle of pebbles told him that some one was standing there, probably just out of sight.
“What is Chang doin’ here?” Jimmie asked, presently.
“He’s in some scheme with the foresters,” was the reply.
“They ain’t no foresters!” Jimmie said. “They’re timber thieves an’ smugglers, an’ firebugs, an’ murderers!”
Liu shuddered but remained silent. After listening a second he went to the entrance and looked out. There was no one in sight at first, then a roughly dressed fellow came around the angle of the cliff to the north and approached him. The fellow was rather short for a man of his width of shoulder, and his step was remarkably light and quick for one of his apparent weight.
His face was sun and wind-tanned, with plenty of mountain soil on top of that. A cartridge-belt encircled the loose jacket he wore and a revolver handle protruded from the pistol pocket of his trousers.
“What’s the word?” he asked, gruffly, as he came up to Liu.
“Go on in,” replied Liu.
Jimmie saw evidences of treachery in the hostile attitude of the newcomer and retreated farther into the cavern.
Then he saw Liu doubling up with laughter and stopped. It didn’t look very amusing to him, especially as the stranger was advancing toward him with swift strides. Then something remotely familiar in the set of the shoulders, the carriage of the head, attracted his closer attention to the figure and he moved forward a step.