For an instant a flash of rage drove the happiness from the mandarin's eyes. But the flash died as swiftly as it came.
"Have you a knife, illustrious youth?" inquired the mandarin.
"Better keep it, pard!" warned McGlory. "Tsan Ti's going to do for Wing!"
But Matt believed otherwise. Taking his knife from his pocket, he handed it to Tsan Ti and the latter went into the barn. He reappeared in a few moments, and Sam Wing, freed of his ropes, accompanied him.
Harsh words in Chinese broke from Tsan Ti's lips. He talked for perhaps two minutes steadily, the harshness leaving his voice as the torrent of speech flowed on. When he had finished, he reached into his alligator-skin pouch, brought out some money, and placed it in Sam Wing's hand; then, sternly, he pointed toward the road.
"What a fool!" growled Grattan.
"Why didn't he send the thief over the road?" muttered Pardo.
"Speak to me about this!" cried McGlory.
"Looks like there was a few things we could learn from the chinks," pondered Banks.
"You're right, Mr. Banks," said Matt. "Tsan Ti is the right sort, and I'm glad I did what I could to help him. Let's start for Catskill—I suppose Martin is back there, by this time, and wondering what has become of Joe and me. Ready for New York in the morning, Joe?"