Shanghai, with sycee silver in their pockets and the treasure at their feet. And Ping-Pong was safe asleep in a white crib at the Mission, Mark thought complacently. He refused to regard her as "bad joss pidgin," despite the confusion she had wrought in their identification. Miss Macdougal had stood with Dr. Rodney and half the settlement to see them off at the landing-place. She had run back and fetched Ping-Pong, and had made her wave a small fist at Mark.
"When ye get to America," Miss Macdougal had shouted, "give my love to Jane! She must be a fine lass!"
Mark smiled vaguely now, half-asleep over a remembered chronicle of the last few hours. The boys turned in at last, and Mark whacked his brother on the shoulder.
"What do you think of my policy now?" he inquired.
"Which policy?" Alan yawned.
"'Wait till something turns up.'"
"Oh, shucks!" said Alan, evasively.
Next day they made their puffing advance through narrow and twisting water-streets of
