Siwash Charley was meddling with the aëroplane—was weakening it here and there so that an accident would be certain on the following day.
With his heart in his throat, the Chinese boy arose to his feet, and started toward the soldiers, his lips framing a cry.
But the cry was never uttered.
Ping had not taken two steps toward the guards before he was felled by a cruel blow from behind, and a black, impenetrable pall dropped over his brain.
"Begorry, what was thot?" exclaimed Sergeant O'Hara, starting up from his seat on the ground and looking toward the machine.
"What's the matter with you, sarg?" asked one of the others.
"I've a notion, d'ye moind, thot I heard somethin'," answered O'Hara.
"Your wits are woolgatherin', old man," said another of the men.
"I'll make sure av it, annyways," averred the sergeant.
Taking the lamp, he walked over to the aëroplane, and looked under it, inside it, and all around.