“Mo chun, beautiful cherry blossom—we neveh, neveh make New Yeah calls again without you.”
THE LITTLE HIGHBINDER
IT was the one desire of little Sing Lee to be a highbinder. It must be a fine thing, for his father was one, and so it must be good. It was true he did not have a very definite idea of just what it meant to be one, but he knew this: his father belonged to the Hip Sing Tongs, an order of highbinders in San Francisco, and they were men who kept their promises. At night as he lay on his hard bamboo couch, with the fumes of opium thick around him, he could hear ho chun talking in a low tone to a crowd of men, who were all of the same order of highbinders as his father. “There is Chong Sing,” they were saying; “he has told some of our secrets to a white devil, and he must die; the joss frowns upon him.”
This sounded very discouraging for Chong Sing, and little Sing Lee felt sorry for a moment, for he remembered that one day this same Chong Sing had spoken kindly, and had given him a three-cornered package of lichee (nuts) and candy. He could even yet taste the delicious strips of candied cocoanut, and the dainty citron. Chong Sing had said he would bring him some more another time, and now—he was to die. If he died, perhaps no one else would bring candy or speak a kind word.
Little Sing Lee lay trembling in his bed as they planned the murder of his friend. What could he do? He was only a little boy, and—he had thought to be a highbinder when he was a big man like ho chun; and if he was going to be one, he must conquer all tenderness of heart,—and yet, this man had been kind to him, and it might be that he had little boys of his own at home.
“If I was a highbinder,” he said to himself, “I no kill nice men who bling children candy; I kill bad men.”
Next day he confided his thoughts to mo chun, but she replied: “No! no! my little boy. No use—Hip Sing Tongs heap big—heap stlong (strong). They no care if Chong Sing give lichee; they kill him, allee samee.” But little Sing Lee did not forget. He still thought, however, that it must be a fine thing to be a highbinder, if only one just killed the bad men—men who did not give candy to lonely little children and speak kind words to them. So that very day he went around through Chinatown and organized a society of highbinders among his boy friends.