"This evening, some time."
"Hunt for me the minute you get there, and let me know what's up."
They found Ping waiting for them in the road. He was a disconsolate-looking Chinaman, and ran up to Matt the moment he slipped down the steep bank.
"You heap mad with Ping, huh?" the Chinese boy chattered. "You know him makee shoot Loman candle, play plenty hob with side show? Woosh! My velly bad China boy."
Matt laughed. That laugh caused Ping to brighten.
"I'll have to forgive you this once, Ping," said Matt. "A whole lot of good has resulted from that flare-up in the side-show tent. But I don't like practical jokes—you know that. Get on the car and go back to the grounds with Burton. As for the Roman-candle business, we'll talk about that later."
"You no pullee pin on China boy?" faltered Ping.
"No. You make your peace with Carl, that's all."
"Hoop-a-la!" said Ping, and limped aboard an electric car that Burton had flagged.
Matt caught a car going the other way, and, as soon as he reached Monroe Street, hurried to the nearest automobile garage, bent upon making the most of the daylight that remained.