"If we'd done this in the first place, Joe," said he, "we might have picked up the mariner's trail before he had got too far away."
"Too late now. It was our luck to get into the only room in the 'dobe, I reckon, that had a good door and a usable lock."
"Well," returned Matt, "let's get out and hunt up the mandarin. I hope he won't make 'way with himself while we're moseying around in this part of the woods."
The boys climbed through the window and the gap in the boards, and Matt made a casual survey of the house's vicinity. Of course the sailor was gone, and had left no clue as to the direction of his flight.
Setting their faces in the direction of the road, the boys started off briskly on their return to the wrecked car.
"There's one thing you didn't do, pard," remarked McGlory, while they were on their way through the timber.
"What's that?"
"Why, you didn't lisp a word to the mandarin about that note you took from the Hottentot's cap. Maybe, if the Chinaman knew about that, he'd quit thinking of doing the polite and courteous thing for the regent."
"I had intended telling Tsan Ti about the note," returned Matt, struck by the illuminating suggestion, "but I hadn't time. I'll put it up to Tsan Ti, though, the first thing after we meet him again."
"I've got the yellow string. If he has to make the happy dispatch with that, then I've blocked his game for a while. I don't know much about the etiquette of this yellow-cord game. Do you?"