fog-hidden in the ship track, the drifting
derelicts whose hopes were once as fair as their own. For God has
mercifully arranged that these things shall be hidden from our eyes
until the proper time.

Even when they reached the house they were not inclined to go indoors.
They sat in the darkness, in pairs, apart, conversing in low tones, and
so another hour slipped away. Back of them the house was dark; not a
lamp was lighted. Only from Feng's kitchen a path of light streamed
from the door. But as they were about to leave the veranda they heard
the sound of hoofs approaching.

"Who on earth is coming at this time of night?" Wade asked.

"Sit quiet and we'll see," said Casey. His hand closed on the butt of a
gun in his pocket, which he now carried constantly.

The hoofs slowed to a walk, and a shadowy horse and rider halted a few
yards away. In the darkness of the veranda, with the deeper background
of the building, they were invisible.

"Be th' mortal! but they've all gone to bed," muttered a disgusted
voice. "An' what do yez know about that? 'Airly to bed an' airly to
rise,' as the kids' dope books has it. Maybe ut makes a man healthy,
but all the wealthy wise guys iver I knowed wint on th' well-known
principle that home was the last place to close up. Faix, a man'll go
home whin he's in no state f'r anny other place. Whoa! Howld still,
there's a good harrse, till I see what's best to do. Don't be so
onaisy. Whoa, darlin'! Bad cess to ye, ye roachbacked Prodestan' baste,
kape off iv thim flower beds! Have yez no manners at all, at all? Be
all th' saints in glory I'll larrup th' head off iv yez--or I w'u'd if
I wasn't afraid ye'd buck me onto the roof. Yez have me crippled
intirely as ut is."

"Not a word, for your life!" Wade whispered. "That's a star monologue!"

Feng, attracted by the voice, came to the door.

"Hallo! What wanchee?" he demanded.

"The country's overrun wid them yelly divils!" Mr. Quilty muttered.
"What wanchee? Th' nerve iv him! Ye weathered-ivory monkey face, I've
business wid yer betters!"

"You keepee hossee off flowah bed," commanded Feng. "What foh you lidee
him all oveh?"

"Ask th' harrse!" Quilty retorted. "The sight iv yez onsettles him,
lowgrade baste as he is. Dom a Chinaman dead or alive, annyway!"

"You no good!" retorted Feng. "Me savvy you. You Ilishman, all same
mick, all same flannel mout', all same bogtlotteh! You bum lailway man!
You get dlunk, fo'get switch, thlain l