Dalzell took a step forward, as though to cross the bridge, but Darrin promptly caught his wrist.
“Don’t do anything rash, Danny Grin,” urged Dave. “Throwing a Chinaman into a river isn’t approved by the American government that has been set up in these islands.”
“Then perhaps I’d better not hoist him over the bridge rail and let him drop into the water,” Dan conceded. “But I believe that I will cross over and have a look at him.”
“Not a bad idea, and certainly not against the law,” nodded Ensign Darrin. “Let us follow the Chapins a little way, cross the road, and then come down on the other side so as to meet Mr. Burnt-face face to face.”
The nickname that the American pair had given the yellow man was due to a patch of purple skin, of considerable area, under the yellow man’s right eye. Had that patch been absent, undoubtedly the Chinaman would not have appeared so sinister.
“Odd that a fine girl like Miss Chapin should want to waste her life serving as a missionary in China, isn’t it?” asked Dan.
“I wouldn’t call it wasting her life,” Darrin returned. “Neither, you may be sure, does Miss Chapin herself so consider it. To her way of thinking, she is devoting her life to one of the noblest ideals that can animate the human mind.”
“I wouldn’t mind so much if she were like the average girl,” Dan rambled on, rather vaguely. “But for a stunner like Miss Chapin—such a dainty little piece of exquisite womanhood—”
“Oh,” laughed Dave. “Then it isn’t her services that you begrudge the natives of China, but her good looks.”
“Well, anyway,” Danny Grin continued rather testily, “I’ll wager that Chapin doesn’t fully approve of what his sister is doing.”