“What do you think of it?” asked Joe, as he and his friend walked rapidly down the street.
“I hardly know,” was the reply. “Maybe he wants to reward us for getting him out of the car.”
“But—that was nothing. Anyone would have done it. No, I’ll bet he has something up his sleeve.”
“What would it be?” demanded Bob.
“More than I know. We’ll see before long. And, say, he wants us to be there by nine o’clock, too. That doesn’t give us much time. We’ll have to get back to the hotel and see our dads first. We’ve been gone a long time, you know.”
“Maybe they can tell us how to get to this Chink’s shop,” suggested Bob. “Do you suppose it’s in Chinatown?”
“Where else would it be? Chinese here in San Francisco don’t live anywhere else, do they?”
“Beyond me.”
The chums reached the corner and boarded a street car for the business district. They knew it would not be necessary to transfer, and so relaxed in their seat.