le as he watched for the result.

The yellow sampan veered far from her course, and a sweep floated on
the surface some few yards aft. Then the sampan lay as if dead. But
the other plunged on after.

This exciting race and the blast of Peter's automatic now attracted the
earnest attention of a gray little river gunboat, just down from
up-stream, and inured to such incidents as this.

A one-pound shell snarled overhead, struck the water a hundred yards
further on, near the Kowloon shore, and sent up a foaming white pillar.

The pier at Kowloon loomed close and more close. It was unlikely that
the gunboat would follow up the shot with another, and in this guess,
Peter, as the French say, "had reason."

The fires under the gunboat's boilers were drawn, and there was no time
for the launching of a cutter.

A great contentment settled down upon Peter's heart when he saw that
the oncoming sampan could not reach the pier until he and his charge
were out of sight, or out of reach, at least.

He examined his watch. The gods were with him. It lacked three
minutes of train-time.

It was only a hope that he and the girl would be safe on board the
Canton train before the red-faced man could catch up.

The sampan rubbed the green timbers of the Kowloon landing stage.
Peter tossed up the girl's luggage in one large armful, lifted her by
the armpits to the floor of the pier, and relieved himself hastily of
four dollars (Mexican), by which the grunting coolie was gratefully,
and for some few hours, richer.

They dashed to the first-class compartment, and Peter dragged the girl
in beside him.

"To Canton, too?" she inquired in surprise.

Peter nodded. He slammed the door. A whistle screamed, and the
station of Kowloon, together with the glittering waters of the blue
bay, and the white city of Hong Kong, across the bay, all began moving,
first slowly, then with acceleration, as the morning express for Canton
slid out on the best-laid pair of rails in southern China.

Had his red-faced pursuer caught up in time? Peter prayed not. He was
tingling with the thrill of the chase; and he turned his attention to
the small maiden who sat cuddled close to his side, with hands folded
demurely before her, imprisoning between them the overlap of his
flaunting blue sarong.

"We are safe, brave one?" she was desirous of knowing.

He patted her hand reassuringly, and she caught at it, lowering her
green-blue eyes to the dusty