also summoned another chair, magically, and, following Mark's shadowy directions, the procession set forth for the Sien Kang landing-place.
"And you'll be the very person, too, who can tell me what to do with Ping-Pong," Mark shouted, when the chairs came within hailing distance of each other. "You can take her to your hospital, or something!"
"What in the name of mercy is Ping-Pong?" Miss Macdougal shouted back.
But it was impossible to explain Ping-Pong from the bobbing chair, so Mark waited. He had not mistaken the direction, after all. The chair-coolies trotted to within view of several landing-places, and finally, below the wall, the Sham-Poo's stumpy mast and drooping sail showed familiarly. Mark leaped forth and ran down to her, slipping and stumbling.
"Alan!" he cried. "Come on, old scout! I told you something would happen!"
But Alan did not answer. Mark dashed into the low, dark deck-house. No Alan! No Ping-Pong! No treasure chest! Nothing but the familiar dim stuffiness, the tick-tick of little leggy creatures investigating the rice-bag.
