Chapter X: The Chase Concluded

When Matt came near enough to see Sam Wing, it seemed plain that the Celestial was yielding to the "blows of circumstance." His flight dragged. Time and time again he cast a wild look over his shoulder at the relentless pursuer, and tried in vain to increase his pace.

His random course crossed a road through the timber with a line of telegraph or telephone poles on one side of it. After a moment's hesitation, Sam Wing chose the road. It was easier going, no doubt, and for that reason probably appealed to him in his fagged condition.

But if it was easier for Sam Wing, so was it for Matt. Now, at last, the eventful chase was certainly approaching its finish.

As the pursuit went on, Matt resolutely closing up the gap between him and the Chinaman, the timber suddenly broke away to give a view of a farmhouse and a barn. Between the house and barn stood a farmer with a rake.

Sam Wing, at the end of his rope and apparently determined on making a last desperate stand, swerved from the road and ran in the direction of the barn.

"Hi, there!" shouted Matt, waving his arms to attract the attention of the farmer, "head him off!"

It was not difficult for the farmer to understand enough of the situation to make him useful in the emergency, and he started energetically to do what he could. Swinging the rake around his head, he hurried toward a point which would intersect the path of the Chinaman.

Sam Wing, even though he was weary and almost spent, continued "game." A small, V-shaped hencoop stood close to the point where he halted and confronted the farmer.

"By Jerry," threatened the farmer, "yew stop! Don't yew try no shenanigin with me, or I'll comb out your pigtail with this here rake. What yew---- Gosh-all-hemlocks!"

It was absolutely necessary for Sam Wing to do something if he did not want to be trapped between the farmer in front and Matt, who was hurrying up behind. Calling upon all his strength, Wing stooped, grabbed the small coop, and hurled it at the farmer's legs.

The coop struck the farmer's shins and doubled his lank frame up like a closed jackknife. He went down, rake and all, and Wing passed around him and lumbered on toward the open barn door.

The farmer's ire was aroused. Getting up on his knees, he began calling, at the top of his lungs: "Tige! Here, Tige!"

Tige, a brindled bulldog, came scurrying from the direction of the house.

"Take 'im, Tige!" bellowed the farmer, pointing toward Sam Wing with the rake.

The Chinaman's Waterloo was close upon him. He had time to give one last frantic look behind, and then Tige caught him by the slack of his dripping garments and pulled him down.

"Don't let the dog hurt him!" yelled Matt.

"Watch 'im, Tige!" cried the farmer. "Good dorg, Tige! Watch 'im!"

The farmer got up and gave the hencoop a vicious kick.

"Jee-whillikins, mister," said he, "what's that slant-eyed heathen been up to, hey? He looks like he'd dropped outen a wet rag bag."

"He's a thief," answered Matt.

"He barked my shins somethin' turrible with that hencoop. But yew got him now, an' don't yew fergit it. That Tige is the best dorg fer tramps an' sich yew ever seen."

Together they walked to the place where Tige, growling savagely and showing his teeth, was standing over the prone Chinaman.

Sam Wing dared not make a move. Had he so much as lifted a finger, the bulldog would have been at his throat.

"Order the dog away," said Matt to the farmer. "I want to talk with the Chinaman, and we'll take him into the barn where we can both sit down on something and rest a little. We've had a hard chase."

The farmer spoke to the dog and the animal slunk away, still keeping his glittering eyes on Sam Wing.

"Looks purty meachin', don't he?" muttered the farmer, peering at the prisoner.

"He's a bad Chinaman," returned Matt, "and he knows it. Get up, Sam Wing," he added, "and go into the barn. Don't try to do any more running. You haven't strength enough to go far, and it won't be best for you."

With wary eyes on the dog, Wing got up and moved toward the barn door. When they were all inside, Matt took down a coil of rope that swung from a nail and started toward the prisoner.

"What yew goin' to do, friend?" asked the farmer.

"Tie him," replied Matt.

"That ain't necessary. Tige is better'n all the ropes that was ever made. All I got ter do is ter tell him ter watch the heathen, an' yew can bet a pair o' gum boots he'll do it."

The farmer spoke to the dog, that had followed them into the barn, and the animal drew close to Sam Wing and sat down within biting distance. Matt, satisfied with the arrangement for the time being, dropped the rope and seated himself on the tongue of a wagon.

"Sam Wing," said the king of the motor boys severely, "you're a mighty bad Chinaman."

"Me savvy," answered Wing, whose English was far from being as good as the mandarin's.

"You stole the ruby from Tsan Ti," went on Matt.

Sam Wing had strength enough left to show some surprise.

"How you savvy?" he inquired.

"I know it, and that's enough. You're a treacherous scoundrel to turn against the mandarin as you did."

"All same," answered Sam Wing, in extreme dejection. "Ten thousand demons makee heap tlouble fol Wing. Me plenty solly."

"You ought to be sorry. Tsan Ti trusted you with his money and had a lot of confidence in you. And you betrayed that confidence."

Sam Wing groaned heavily and caressed his numerous bruises. One of his hands finally reached the breast of his torn blouse, and he fished from it a very wet alligator-skin pouch.

"Here Tsan Ti's money," said he, offering the pouch to Matt. "Me velly bad Chinaman. You takee money, lettee Sam Wing go?"

"I'll take the money," and Matt suited his action to the word, "but I can't let you go until you give up the ruby."

"No gottee luby," came the astonishing assertion from Sam Wing.

"You took it from the mandarin, didn't you?" demanded Matt.

"My takee las' night, no gottee now."

"Where is it?"

"Me losee when me makee lun flom spling. No savvy where me losee--p'laps where me makee fall down bank, p'laps on load, p'laps in cleek--no savvy. Luby gone, me no gottee Eye of Buddha."

It seemed strange to Matt that Sam Wing could carry the alligator-skin pouch safely through all his varied adventures and yet not be able to retain the most valuable part of his cargo--the part which, presumably, he would take care to stow safely.

"Don't tell any lies, Sam Wing!" said Matt sternly.

"No tellee lie--all same one piecee tluth!" protested the Chinaman.

"I'll have to make sure of that," went on Matt.

He searched carefully through the Chinaman's torn and waterlogged apparel, but without discovering anything of value--much less the missing gem.

"Where did you have it?" he asked.

Sam Wing showed him the inside pocket where the ruby had been placed.

"Where have you been since you took the ruby?"

A wave of emotion convulsed the Chinaman's features.

"Evel place," he murmured. "My stay in Galdenville one piecee time, makee tly keepee 'way flom Tsan Ti. Bymby me makee lun fol countlee. Tsan Ti makee see, makee lun, too. My makee hide in hills, foolee Tsan Ti so he no ketchee. My heap hungly, heap thirsty. Findee spling to takee dlink. You come."

Sam Wing shook his head sadly.

"You had the ruby when you were at the spring?" inquired Matt.

The Chinaman nodded.

"And you lost it while I was chasing you?"

Another nod.

Matt, oppressed with what he had heard, and which he felt instinctively was the truth, resumed his seat on the wagon tongue.

The ruby might be lying anywhere over the wild course Sam Wing had taken in his flight. Perhaps it was mixed with the loose earth of the side hill where the Chinaman had fallen, or it might be under the leaves in the woods, or in the dust of the road, or in the bottom of the creek.

Of one thing Matt was sure, and that was that to retrace the exact line of Sam Wing's flight would be impossible; and, even if it were possible, finding the red gem would be as difficult as looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

The Eye of Buddha seemed to be lost irretrievably. This was like to prove a tragic event for Tsan Ti.

It was strange what ill luck had attended upon all in any way connected with the idol's eye; and doubly strange was this final loss of the precious stone.

While Matt was busily turning the catastrophe over in his mind, the farmer suddenly gave a shout and pointed through the open barn door and along the road.

"Great sassafrass!" he exclaimed. "I never seen sich a day fer Chinamen! Look there, will yew?"

Matt looked, and what he saw staggered him. Two motor cycles were coming down the road. Bunce was riding one and Tsan Ti the other. Here was another flight and pursuit, for the sailor was pushing hard upon the heels of the mandarin.

For only a moment was Matt at loss. Gathering up the coil of rope which he had taken from the nail in the barn wall, he called to the farmer to watch the prisoner and ran out of the barn and toward the road.