“They know I not tellee, even if I get killed,” he explained. “That do them no good, no.”
“Then you ought to feel fairly safe,” laughed Bob. “Your life isn’t in any great danger, anyway. Do you wear any of the jewelry?”
“I keepee good luck ring on finger all tlime,” Pong Lee returned. “Only once I had bleeg excitement.”
“How was that?” asked Joe.
“I was knocked down by a man that he want ring. I get run flom him. He thlow hatchet at me. It miss my head by many few parts of inches.”
“A close shave, all right,” said Bob grimly. “Here’s hoping Joe and I don’t have such an experience tonight.”
The youths remained in the building for nearly an hour talking with the amiable Chinaman. Then, as they realized that it was past ten, they departed, after having again thanked the man for the rings.
While still in that vicinity they remained quiet, slinking along like wolves. They feared all too much that the sinister Moy Ling, of whom Pong Lee spoke, might cause them trouble. But as time passed they lost their apprehension and became their natural selves again. Thus far no Oriental had stopped them.
“I had a hunch that Chink wanted to give us something,” remarked Bob, breaking the silence. “But of course I had no idea what it would be.”