"POCKETED."
For the cowboy pleasant fancies were cropping out of this surprising turn of events. He reflected that Grattan did not know Sam Wing had stolen the ruby from Tsan Ti. By entrapping Tsan Ti, Grattan was undoubtedly counting upon getting hold of the Eye of Buddha.
If Bunce had known how little love McGlory had for the mandarin, he would not have been at so much pains to keep a hand over his lips. Just at that moment nothing could have induced the cowboy to shout a warning to the approaching Chinaman.
Kneeling behind the bowlder, Grattan lifted his voice for Tsan Ti's benefit. Presently the mandarin was decoyed around the side of the bowlder, and his capture expeditiously effected.
He was a badly demoralized Chinaman. His usually immaculate person had been eclipsed by recent hardships, and he was tattered and torn and liberally sprinkled with dust. His flabby cheeks were covered with red splotches where thorny undergrowth had left its mark. He was so fagged, too, that he could hardly stand. At the merest touch from Grattan he tumbled over. A most melancholy spectacle he presented as he sat on the ground and stared at Grattan with jaws agape.
"Oh, friend of my friend," wheezed Tsan Ti, passing his gaze to McGlory, "was it you who shouted?"
"First off it was," answered McGlory; "after that, Grattan took it up."
"And you are a prisoner?"
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
"I'm the man for you to talk to, Tsan Ti," put in Grattan grimly. "It's me you're to reckon with."