WHEN he had made an opening barely large enough to see into the store, Pong Lee stepped forward and peered out, holding the pistol with a grip of steel.

For the first time Bob and Joe saw how dangerous this harmless-looking Chinaman could become. They were indeed glad he was their friend and not their enemy.

Bob cautiously glided over beside the Chinaman, although well aware of the grave danger. The youth looked through the opening, and then his jaw dropped.

There, running rapidly but quietly toward the door, was a tall, slim Oriental, a plait of black hair reaching halfway down his back. It was evident that he knew he had been discovered, for he ran in desperation.

Bang! Bang! Pong Lee’s pistol spoke twice in rapid succession but without result. The intruder escaped unharmed.

The moment he disappeared through the doorway, Pong Lee dashed out into the room.

“We must shoot him!” cried the little Chinaman, reaching the outside.

Bob, hesitating to follow because of the peril, watched closely until Pong Lee was out of sight. Joe too had parted the curtain to see what was going on.

They heard several pistol shots, but no other noise followed. Apparently Pong Lee’s aim was not true.

A moment later the Chinaman returned, holding the smoking weapon.

“Gone, yes.” Pong Lee was facing the boys. “Man he leave queek. I not gave a chance to shoot him.”

“He sure went out of the store quickly,” commented Bob. “Must have been barefooted or something.”

The remark provoked a smile from Joe, but not from the Chinaman. That the latter was still greatly worried was clear to the youths.

Had the invader, whoever he was, seen where the valuable jewels were kept? Did he intend to return later? Pong Lee’s mind was in a whirl. He felt that it would be necessary to find another hiding place for the valuables, one that could not be located by anyone.

“I should think this fellow, or someone else, would come in and make you tell them where you keep this stuff,” remarked Joe. “Even threaten to kill you if you didn’t tell.”

The Oriental shook his head.

“They know I not tellee, even if I get killed,” he explained. “That do them no good, no.”

“Then you ought to feel fairly safe,” laughed Bob. “Your life isn’t in any great danger, anyway. Do you wear any of the jewelry?”

“I keepee good luck ring on finger all tlime,” Pong Lee returned. “Only once I had bleeg excitement.”

“How was that?” asked Joe.

“I was knocked down by a man that he want ring. I get run flom him. He thlow hatchet at me. It miss my head by many few parts of inches.”

“A close shave, all right,” said Bob grimly. “Here’s hoping Joe and I don’t have such an experience tonight.”

The youths remained in the building for nearly an hour talking with the amiable Chinaman. Then, as they realized that it was past ten, they departed, after having again thanked the man for the rings.

While still in that vicinity they remained quiet, slinking along like wolves. They feared all too much that the sinister Moy Ling, of whom Pong Lee spoke, might cause them trouble. But as time passed they lost their apprehension and became their natural selves again. Thus far no Oriental had stopped them.

“I had a hunch that Chink wanted to give us something,” remarked Bob, breaking the silence. “But of course I had no idea what it would be.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that these rings are really worth a lot,” Joe said.

“You don’t mean they’ll actually bring us good luck?” asked Bob, very much amused.

“Not that,” was the answer. “I mean worth something in money. Pong Lee said they were. Do you suppose they’re gold?”

“More than I know. I’m not going to sell mine, though. I’d rather keep it to remember this experience with Pong Lee.”

“I’ll bet you really think it will bring good luck,” teased Joe.

“Quit your kidding. I’m not unusually smart, but I’ve got more sense than to believe that.”

There was a general laugh.

“Do you know,” began Joe, a little later, “I’m beginning to wonder something.”

Bob glanced up expectantly.

“Pong Lee said there is a big secret connected with those rings,” Joe resumed.

“That’s right. He did.”

“Then—there’s a chance that they are worth more than their actual gold value. Get my point?”

Bob’s face lightened.

“Golly, Joe. You may be right. But what could the secret be?”

“That’s the mystery of it all. Maybe,” Joe continued, struck with a sudden thought, “there’s a piece of paper or something concealed in the rings. I’m going to find out. It’s light here under this street lamp.”

“Don’t, you sap!” cried Bob, whirling his friend around. “Why, there might be a dozen Chinks spying on us. It would about be our finish if you’d go to examining that ring here at this late hour.”

Joe laughed sheepishly.

“I must be crazy,” he smiled. “Funny, but I never thought of that. We’ll wait till we get back to the hotel.”

Although it was late, the friends walked idly along Grant Avenue, desiring to see everything that had previously escaped their eyes. They wanted to “go off the beaten path,” as Joe expressed it, to see a part of Chinatown that was not spoiled by the Occidental. But as it was late they knew this could not be done.

The chums finally came to Market Street and turned toward the hotel, walking along silently.

The naturalists looked up quickly as the boys entered. They regarded the latter quizzically.

“We’re anxious to know just what that Chinaman wanted of you,” said Mr. Lewis with a smile. “Sit down and tell us.”

Bob removed the good luck ring from his finger. He passed it to Mr. Lewis.

“He just wanted to reward us for getting him out of that wrecked automobile,” Bob explained. “Gave us rings. And, say, there’s some secret connected with them. He wouldn’t tell us, and we haven’t been able to find out.”

“Hmm.” Joe’s father examined the ring eagerly while Mr. Holton looked over Joe’s.

“No secret openings in them, are there?” inquired Bob.

“Apparently not,” his father returned. “Each has a lot of Chinese letters and figures on it, though. Perhaps if you knew what they mean you could solve the mystery.”

Joe yawned and stretched.

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to stay up any longer to find out, even if I could,” he said.

Without further discussion all retired, eager to get all the sleep the night would afford them.

Late the next morning, Bob and Joe were awakened by their fathers.

“Whazzamatter?” demanded Bob drowsily.

“We have some news for you,” Mr. Holton said, his eyes twinkling. “Thought maybe you’d like to hear it.”

All the sleep knocked out of them, the chums sat up quickly, wondering what was meant.