Ping had but one thought. The Dutch boy had told Matt about the Roman candle, and Matt was chasing the street car in order to remove his Chinese pard, read the riot act to him, and cast him adrift.
What a turn Ping had! He crouched down on the step, and the clatter of the gong, as the conductor gave the motorman the bell from the rear platform, sent a shiver of dread through his nerves.
Rather than face Matt and be cut out of the motor boys' combination, Ping would have done almost anything. The only thing that suggested itself at that moment was to jump and run. His original intention to lie low until the Roman-candle incident blew over grew stronger in his mind.
The car was beginning to slow down, but it was still proceeding at a lively gait when Ping threw himself straight out from the lower step.
The Chinese boy did not know the proper way to alight from a swiftly moving trolley car, and the result of his leap can be imagined.
The passengers who were looking out from that side of the car had a vision of a small Chinaman in the air, pigtail flying. The next instant the Chinaman touched ground, but found it moving too fast for a secure foothold. Ping bounded into the air again, his slouch hat going in one direction, his sandals in another, and he himself describing what is technically known as a parabola. The Le Bons—the best "kinkers" in the Big Consolidated—could not have twisted themselves into more fantastic shapes than did Ping during that stunt of ground-and-lofty tumbling. He landed on the ground like a frog taking to the water from the top of a toadstool, and he wound up his performance by throwing a number of choice cartwheels and then sitting up in the dust and looking around in considerable mental perturbation.
About the first thing he saw and was able to realize was that another besides himself had made a jump from the car. The other was Wily Bill, and he must have dropped from the rear platform a little before Ping dropped from the platform forward.
Wily Bill, however, must have known how to jump from a swiftly moving car and yet keep his balance, for he was on his feet and making a dash for a brushy bank at the roadside.
Motor Matt had swerved his motor cycle and was making in the "barker's" direction, calling loudly the while for him to stop.
The light that dawned on Ping, just then, was a good balm for his bruises.