he felt that
way. He examined his room-mate, but was not surprised at what met his
glance.

Bobbie MacLaurin, disregarding the fact that he had not yet shaved,
looked as fresh as a rose. His endurance was like that of a range of
mountains. His sea-blue eyes were cannily clear, his complexion was
transparent and glowing. The ill effects of last night had been
absorbed with about as much apparent effort as a gigantic sponge might
display in absorbing a dewdrop.

"Chinamen's eyes and Chinamen's knives have been running through my
dreams," Peter muttered.

"Cheer up! The pirates are thick above Ichang. We'll both have our
bloody necks slit a dozen times before we make Ching-Fu." Bobbie
turned from the miniature mirror. His sea-blue eyes glared through a
white lake of lather. "Hurry up and shave, you loafer! We'll miss
that train."

"I'm not going to shave for six months!"

"Election bet?"

"When your utterly worthless life has been endangered as many times
as----"

"What you need is a drink, my lad!"

"When you have evidence that the greatest criminal-at-large wants to
have you stuck like a pig----"

MacLaurin swung his big frame about and stared. "You're not serious."

"I am referring to--a Gray Dragon. Ever hear of one?"

The razor in the large, red hand of Bobbie MacLaurin flashed. It came
away from his cheek. A broad trickle of crimson spread down the
lathered jaw, But he did not curse.

"We must hurry for that train," rumbled his big voice. "We must talk
this over. We must hurry, Peter," he said again.

Miss Amy Vost was not in evidence when the two rickshaws rattled up to
the platform of the red brick station.

"Perhaps she's waiting for us in the coach, holding seats for us,"
Peter suggested.

"Just like her," said MacLaurin. "She's a little peach!"

Peter entered the compartment first and scanned the heads. The only
tresses in evidence were the long, black, shining ones of a bejeweled
Chinese lady. The other passengers were men.

"There will be no tete-a-tete in Soochow," observed Peter Moore to his
conscience.

"I'd go to hell for that girl!" declared Bobbie MacLaurin as he sat
down at Peter's side. "Now, tell me what you were doing in that Jap
rigging. Two years, isn't it, since we were chased out of Panama City
by the _spigotties_?"

"I came over on the _Vandalia_."

"And didn't go back, I gather."

"She sailed up-river for Soo-chow yesterday. No, I won't go bac