p Leong Tong,
WONG GET.

He ceased reading and there was a perfunctory grunt of approval from
round the circle. Then he turned to the official soothsayer and directed
him to ascertain whether the time were propitious. The latter tossed
into the air a handful of painted ivory sticks, carefully studied their
arrangement when fallen, and nodded gravely.

"The omens are favorable, O honorable one!"

"Then there is nothing left but the choice of our representatives,"
continued Wong Get. "Pass the fateful box, O Fong Hen."

Fong Hen, a slender young Chinaman, the official slipper, or messenger,
of the society, rose and, lifting a lacquered gold box from the table,
passed it solemnly to each member.

"This time there will be four," said Wong Get.

Each in turn averted his eyes and removed from the box a small sliver of
ivory. At the conclusion of the ceremony the four who had drawn red
tokens rose. Wong Get addressed them.

"Mock Hen, Mock Ding, Long Get, Sui Sing--to you it is confided to
avenge the murder of our brother Wah Sing. Fail not in your purpose!"

And the four answered unemotionally: "Those to whom it is confided will
not fail."

Then pivoting silently upon their heels they passed out of the cellar.

Wong Get glanced round the table.

"If there is no further business the society will disperse after the
customary refreshment."

Fong Hen placed thirteen tiny glasses upon the table and filled them
with rice whisky scented with aniseed and a dash of powdered ginger. At
a signal from Wong Get the thirteen Chinamen lifted the glasses and
drank.

"The meeting is adjourned," said he.

* * * * *

Eighty years before, in a Cantonese rabbit warren two yellow men had
fought over a white woman, and one had killed the other. They had
belonged to different societies, or tongs. The associates of the
murdered man had avenged his death by slitting the throat of one of the
members of the other organization, and these in turn had retaliated thus
establishing a vendetta which became part and parcel of the lives of
certain families, as naturally and unavoidably as birth, love and death.
As regularly as the solstice they alternated in picking each other off.
Branches of the Hip Leong and On Gee tongs sprang up in San Francisco
and New York--and the feud was transferred with them to Chatham Square,
a feud imposing a sacred obligation rooted in blood