hould say so," echoed Hadley.

Mosely urged his mustang to greater speed, and soon overtook Ki Sing,
for it was Richard Dewey's attendant whom the two adventurers had fallen
in with.

CHAPTER IV.

KI SING IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

Ki Sing turned when he heard the sound of horses' feet, for in that
mountain-solitude such a sound was unusual. He was not reassured by the
appearance of the two men, whose intention seemed to be to overtake him,
and he turned aside from the path with the intention of getting out of
the way.

"Stop there, you heathen!" called Bill Mosely in his fiercest tone.

Ki Sing halted, and an expression of uneasiness came over his broad,
flat face.

"What are you doing here, you Chinese loafer?"

Ki Sing did not exactly comprehend this speech, but answered mildly,
"How do, Melican man?"

"How do?" echoed Bill Mosely, laughing rather boisterously.--"Tom, the
heathen wants to know how I do.--Well, heathen, I'm so's to be around,
and wouldn't mind chawing up a dozen Chinamen. Where do you live?"

"Up mountain," answered Ki Sing.

"Which way?"

The Chinaman pointed in the right direction.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Wait on Melican man--cookee, washee."

"So you are a servant to a white man, John?"

"Yes, John."

"Don't you call me John, you yellow mummy! I'm not one of your
countrymen, I reckon.--What do you say to that, Tom? The fellow's
gettin' familiar."

"I should say so," remarked Tom Hadley, with his usual originality.

"What's the name of the Melican man you work for?" continued Mosely,
after a slight pause.

"Dickee Dewee," answered Ki Sing, repeating the familiar name applied by
Bradley to the invalid. The name seemed still more odd as the Chinaman
pronounced it.

"Well, he's got a queer name, that's all I can say," continued Mosely.
"What's your name?"

"Ki Sing."

"Ki Sing? How's Mrs. Ki Sing?" asked Mosely, who was disposed, like the
cat, to play with his victim before turning and rending him.

"Me got no wifee," said the Chinaman, stolidly.

"Then you're in the market. Do you want to marry?"

"Me no want to mally?"

"So much the worse for the ladies. Well, as to this Dickee, as you call
him? What does he do?"

"He sick--lie down on bedee."

"He's sick, is he? What's the matter with him?"

"Fall down and hurt leggee."

"Oh, that was it? What did he do before he hurt himself?"

"Dig gold."

Bill Mosely became more interested. "Did he