The Squint made only one response to this.
"Hell! He's stallin'. Go through 'im, Shorty. Try his pack first."
The short and ragged one tore the pack to pieces and left no space the size of a lead pencil unsearched. He finished his fruitless task in exasperation.
"Clean out His Nibs next," commanded the pasty-nosed ruffian.
Panting from his exertions and the blistering sun, the plunderer stepped up behind their victim, and keeping himself out of gun range, he deftly felt through Prince Chu's garments.
"I have not what you want," stated the Chinaman calmly.
"Yuh haven't, hey! Then wot's this?"
The eager fingers were fumbling with the clasp of a long, flat pocket case, black leather bound.
"It contains medicines, and certain chemicals, but nothing of value to you. Yes—cigarettes. Help yourself."