Chapter VIII: Springing a "coup."

Stripped of its ornamental trimmings, the mandarin's plan was marvelously simple. McGlory was to roll over with his back to him, and he engaged to gnaw through the knife laniard. When the cowboy's hands were free it would be only a few moments until he removed the ropes from his ankles and set Tsan Ti at liberty.

This accomplished, McGlory was to set up a racket, calling Grattan, Bunce, and Pardo into the pocket. As they crashed through the brush in one direction, the mandarin would crash through it in another, reach the motor cycles, and rush away on one before Grattan or his companions had an opportunity to use their firearms.

"H'm," reflected McGlory. "That's a bully plan, Tsan Ti--for you. You're the boy to look out for Number One, eh? This surprise party you're thinking of springing reminds me of the way you unloaded that imitation ruby on Motor Matt, and then sat back and allowed Matt and me to play tag with Grattan."

"What is the fault with my plan, generous sir?" asked the mandarin.

"Of course," went on the cowboy, with fine sarcasm, "I don't amount to much. I kick up a disturbance in here, and when Grattan, Pardo, and Bunce rush in on me, you make a run for one of the motor cycles. In other words, I hold the centre of the stage and make things interesting for the three tinhorns while you burn the air on a benzine bike and get as far outdoors as you can. Fine!"

"Pardon, exalted friend," demurred Tsan Ti, "but you overlook the point that I will be pursued."

"I don't think I overlook a blessed point, Tsan Ti. But just answer me this: What's the good of escaping? Grattan will have to let us go sooner or later. If we put up with these uncomfortable ropes for a spell, we'll both get clear and without running the risk of stopping a bullet."

"Accept my excuses, noble youth, and please remember Grattan made some remarks about choking me with the cord in case I did not reveal the whereabouts of the ruby. That would not be pleasant."

"Sufferin' stranglers!" exclaimed McGlory; "I'd forgotten about that. Can't say that I blame you for thinking twice for yourself and once for me. I'll help on the game." The cowboy rolled over with his back to the mandarin. "Now get busy with your teeth," he added, "and be in a rush. There's no telling when the pallavering outside will be over with, and if those fellows get through before we do, the kibosh will be on us and not on them."

The logic of this last remark was not lost upon the mandarin. He grunted and wheezed and used his teeth with frantic energy. While he panted and labored, both he and the cowboy kept their ears sharp for the mumble of talk going on outside.

Fortunately for the _coup_ the prisoners were intending to spring, the talk continued unabated. The laniard was gnawed in half, and McGlory sat up, brought his hands around in front of him, and rubbed the places where the mandarin's sharp teeth had slipped from the cord.

"You've turned part of the trick, Tsan Ti," commended the cowboy; "now watch me do my share."

With his pocket knife he slashed through the coil that held his feet, and he would then have treated the yellow cord about the mandarin's wrists in like manner had he not been stopped by a quick word.

"The yellow cord, illustrious one," said the Chinaman, "must be untied. It is a present from his imperial highness, my regent, and I may yet be obliged to use it in the customary way."

"Oh, hang your regent!" grumbled McGlory, but yielded to the mandarin's request and began untying the cord with his fingers.

This was slow work, for McGlory's fingers were still numb from the effects of his own bonds. In due course, however, the cord was removed, and the Chinaman lifted himself to a sitting posture. The cowboy used the knife on the rope that secured Tsan Ti's feet, while the latter was solicitously coiling up the yard of yellow cord and putting it away in his pocket.

"Now, courageous friend," whispered the mandarin, getting up noiselessly and stepping to the swinging green barrier at the mouth of the niche, "we are ready."

"You know how to manage a motor cycle?" queried McGlory, suddenly stifling the roar that was almost on his lips.

"Excellently well, superlative one."

"Then good luck to you. Here goes."

Above the fearsome commotion McGlory made, the words "Help!" and "Hurry!" might have been distinguished. Startled exclamations came from the automobile, followed by a sound of scrambling as the three thieves tumbled out. Then there was a crashing among the bushes and the vines, and McGlory rolled back at full length and shoved his unbound hands under him.

"What's the matter?" cried Grattan, who was first to enter the pocket.

"Mandarin tried to knife me!" whooped McGlory. "Why didn't you take his knife away from him? I might have been sent over the one-way trail if I hadn't yelled."

All three of the men were in the niche by that time.

"Where is the chink?" shouted Grattan.

The poppety-pop-pop of a motor in quick action came from without.

"He's tripped his anchor and is makin' off!" yelled Bunce.

"Stop him!" fumed Grattan, and instantly he followed Bunce and Pardo back through the swinging screen of vines and bushes.

Chuckling with delight, McGlory leaped erect, sprang to the vines, and parted them so he could look out.

Tsan Ti, his motor working splendidly, was streaking down the ravine toward the road. Bunce, who had led in the rush from the pocket, had mounted the other motor cycle and was coaxing his engine into action with the pedal.

"Catch him, Bunce!" bellowed Grattan.

Bunce's answer was lost in a series of explosions as his motor got to work. As he whirled away, Grattan and Pardo ran after him to watch the pursuit as long as possible.

And thus it chanced that good luck came McGlory's way, after all. He had pretended, when Grattan and the other two came into the pocket, that he was tied, and the excitement following Bunce's discovery that the mandarin was escaping prevented any examination of the cowboy's bonds. Now McGlory had the neighborhood of the pocket to himself, and within a dozen feet of where he stood was the blue touring car, unguarded!

A daring plan rushed through the cowboy's head. Why not crank up the automobile's engine and rush down the ravine?

There was a chance that he could reach the road. If Grattan or Pardo got in his way, he could run them down; if they drew off to one side and fired at him, he could trust to luck.

"Nothing venture, nothing win!" muttered the reckless cowboy, and pushed through the vines and bushes and jumped for the front of the car.

An angle of the ravine hid Grattan and Pardo. One look made McGlory certain on this point, and another look showed him the rough surface which the automobile had to get over. There was a fine chance to blow up a tire or come to grief against a jutting rock, but the cowboy had staked everything on a single throw, and he was not to be frightened by difficulties.

He gave the crank a couple of turns, and the engine answered with a fierce sputter and an increasing rattle of explosions.

That sound, if Grattan and Pardo were near enough to hear, advertised plainly what McGlory was about. He lost not a moment in scrambling into the driver's seat and getting the car to going.

The automobile started with a jump, and lurched and swayed over the uneven ground like a ship in a storm. Bending to the steering wheel, McGlory nursed the car onward with the spark.

The machine rounded the turn. The road was in plain view--but so were Grattan and Pardo.

Consternation was written large in the faces of the two thieves. The car was being hurled toward them, plunging and buck-jumping as it met the high places, and the two men had to throw themselves sideways to clear the path.

"Stop!" roared Grattan, drawing a revolver.

McGlory's answer was a defiant yell. As the car rushed by Pardo he made a jump for it--and was knocked roughly back toward the ravine wall.

_Bang!_

That was Grattan's weapon, echoing high about the racket of the unmuffled motor. Something ripped through the rear of the top and crooned its wicked song within an inch of McGlory's head.

But the cowboy laughed. He hadn't blown up a tire or smashed any of the machinery, he was turning into the road, and Grattan and Pardo were behind him!

"We've knocked the hoodoo galley west!" McGlory exulted. "Oh, what do you think of this! _What_ do you think of it!" and he let the sixty champing horses under the bonnet snatch him along the road at their best clip.