There is little doubt that Cheong-Chau would have killed the boy then and there had he not been alive to the fact that he himself stood in immediate danger of a sudden onslaught from Ling, who lay in hiding somewhere amidst the shadows of the wood.

It was now almost dark. It was scarce possible to see across the glade. Cheong-Chau turned to Tong--the man who had endeavoured to kill the boy.

"You were a fool to fire," said he. "How so?"

"You have betrayed our whereabouts to the tiger. He cannot be far away."

"Let us keep together," whispered Chin Yen. "It will be as much as the three of us can do to overpower him."

It was quite plain to Frank that the three brigands stood in mortal fear of the mighty Honanese. They had not forgotten their experience in the opium den, when Ling had accounted for four of them in less than a minute. They knew their opponent, and they were well aware that he was the last man in the world to beat a hasty retreat. Indeed, Ling had deliberately attacked them, charging blindly like an infuriated beast into the darkness of the wood.

For the time being they could give little attention to the boy. They remained for a few minutes perfectly still, holding their revolvers in their hands, keeping a sharp look-out in all directions.

And then the mighty Ling descended into their very midst. Small wonder that they had not discovered him, for the man had climbed up a tree, and had for the last four or five minutes been seated upon a branch, immediately above their heads, listening to every word that was said. They had looked to the right and to the left; their sharp eyes had pierced the dark shadows beneath the underwoods and the crumbled ruins of the ancient temple; but never for a moment had any one of them dreamed of looking upward.

Like a thunderbolt, Ling descended to the ground. His great weight fell upon Chin Yen. The man let out a loud cry, prompted by acute and sudden pain. Then he lay upon the ground, groaning and writhing with a broken arm.

Ling himself staggered, and with difficulty maintained his balance. Indeed, he only succeeded in doing so by laying hands upon the terrified Tong.

The man had no time to fire. He was snatched from off the ground. He endeavoured to struggle, but his efforts were hopeless. His revolver was wrenched from his hand and thrown far across the glade. Then he himself was hurled after it, thrown away like a half-filled sack. In his descent his head struck the side of one of the fallen images, and he lay upon the ground, motionless and stunned.

In the meantime, Cheong-Chau had made the most of the only chance he was ever likely to have. He had fired at Ling at almost point-blank range. Frank, who still lay upon the ground, heard a loud groan issue from the lips of Ling, and a moment after he was just able to perceive the dark blood flowing slowly from the man's side and staining his long silken robe.

Cheong-Chau, thinking that he had done his work, turned with the intention of seeking safety in flight. He was caught by the pigtail, and jerked backward, as a boy might flick a top. A moment after he found himself held by the great hands of Ling, gripped by both forearms, so that he felt as if he were wedged in a mighty vice.

Fear took strong hold upon him. He knew, no doubt, that his last hour had come. He shrieked in pain and in terror, calling upon his followers to hasten to his help. But Tong lay senseless, and Chin Yen had already gathered himself together and taken to his heels like one possessed.

Let it be said for Cheong-Chau that he made no plea for mercy. On the contrary, he reviled his adversary, making use of a string of Chinese oaths to which the boy was a stranger. And then he kicked, his legs being the only part of him which was free. The more violently he kicked and struggled, the greater became the pressure upon his arms; until at last he was obliged to desist, lest his very bones should be broken. Suddenly he became limp from exhaustion and despair.

"Have you done?" asked Ling. His voice was deep and very low, and there was in it something of a tremor that made it plain to Frank that the man suffered considerable pain.

Cheong-Chau made no answer.

"Listen," said Ling. "Last night, had I wished, I might have killed you. I did not do so. The more fool I! And now, you have shot me. I am wounded, perhaps mortally--I cannot say."

"We are old enemies," said Cheong-Chau.

Ling laughed. In his laugh there was something of his old boisterous manner; but at the same time, it was manifest from his voice that he was already weak from loss of blood.

"The wolf," said he, "was never an enemy of the tiger, nor can the rat be the foe of the dog. You, Cheong-Chau, are vermin. I would lose all pride in myself, in my strength and dignity, if I killed you otherwise than with my hands."

A shudder ran through the thin frame of the brigand chief. He had lived a life of crime; he had sinned, time and again, against the gods and his fellow-men, but he was no coward; he had always known that, sooner or later, he must die a violent death.

He had thought that fate would bring him to the dreadful Potter's Yard, the public and official place of execution in the city of Canton. The inevitable conclusion of the West River pirate is the block. So Cheong-Chau was prepared to die.

"You will not torture me?" he asked.

"I would," said Ling, "if I meted out to you the fate you have more than once prepared for others. But I am no such fiend. Moreover, I have no time to spare. I go down-stream to-night on your own junk, with the ransom money that you thought was yours. I go where tide and current take me--perhaps to live for the remainder of my days upon the fatness of the earth; perhaps to find my way amidst the stars in search of the Unknowable."

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"I mean that--for all I know--the sands of life are running out. The blood issues from my wound. It may be that the breath of life goes with it. And now, you die, by what strength remains in me."

Frank Armitage was not able to see how it was done--indeed, he turned away, and covered his eyes with a hand. It seems that Cheong-Chau was taken by the throat and that either he was strangled or his neck was broken. At any rate, it was all done in silence. The lifeless body of the man was allowed to fall to the ground, and then Ling turned to the boy.

"Are you safe?" he asked.

Frank rose to his feet, but did not answer. Ling placed a hand upon his shoulder. The boy felt that he was called upon to sustain much of the man's great weight.

"You must help me," said Ling. "I am hurt badly. You must help me--back to the junk."

Together they left the wood and came out into the starlight. The moon was already risen. It was crescent-shaped and very thin. Ling was breathing heavily.

"In two days," said he, "it will be a new moon, but I do not think I shall behold it. There is something to be said for the creed of the Mohammedans, who hold the belief that the lives of us all, down to the most insignificant details, are written in an unalterable Book of Fate. I wonder," said he. "I wonder."

They walked slowly upon the river bank, Ling still leaning upon his young companion. Presently they came to the boat, which they had hidden amongst the rushes. Ling seated himself in the bows, and as he did so he groaned again. Frank, placing himself in the stern, took hold of the little oar.

"Come," said Ling, "row me to the junk."