"Oh, hang your regent!" grumbled McGlory, but yielded to the mandarin's request and began untying the cord with his fingers.
This was slow work, for McGlory's fingers were still numb from the effects of his own bonds. In due course, however, the cord was removed, and the Chinaman lifted himself to a sitting posture. The cowboy used the knife on the rope that secured Tsan Ti's feet, while the latter was solicitously coiling up the yard of yellow cord and putting it away in his pocket.
"Now, courageous friend," whispered the mandarin, getting up noiselessly and stepping to the swinging green barrier at the mouth of the niche, "we are ready."
"You know how to manage a motor cycle?" queried McGlory, suddenly stifling the roar that was almost on his lips.
"Excellently well, superlative one."
"Then good luck to you. Here goes."
Above the fearsome commotion McGlory made, the words "Help!" and "Hurry!" might have been distinguished. Startled exclamations came from the automobile, followed by a sound of scrambling as the three thieves tumbled out. Then there was a crashing among the bushes and the vines, and McGlory rolled back at full length and shoved his unbound hands under him.
"What's the matter?" cried Grattan, who was first to enter the pocket.
"Mandarin tried to knife me!" whooped McGlory. "Why didn't you take his knife away from him? I might have been sent over the one-way trail if I hadn't yelled."