then impossible, they moored their vessel, which Mark had christened the Sham-Poo in a desperate spirit of merriment. They tied her up to the desolate bank of what seemed uninhabited country, and took turns at keeping a lookout, with Chun Lon's knife in reach. Mark's watch had stopped during some of the excitement, and though he had set it by the sun as accurately as possible, he mistrusted it for the purpose of telling actual time. However, it registered hours and minutes, and by it the boys timed their "watches" with shipboard precision.
Fear of pursuit by Chun Lon had died. Even if his coolies could have roused before daylight and set him free, there was no other boat at hand for the chase. In the crowded maze of waterways that netted the land it was impossible for him to know which one the boys had chosen to navigate. His natural supposition, too, would be that that they would try to retrace the route to Nangpoo, instead of turning boldly in an unknown direction. So the boys presently ceased their anxious survey of each passing boat, their startled scrutiny of every Chinese face that might be Chun Lon's.
