Chapter XVI

CONCLUSION.

"What can I do for you, Neb?" asked Matt, facing the darky as he pulled his mule to a halt.

"Ah dunno as yo' can do nuffin' fo' me, boss," answered Neb. "Ah reckons yo's done about all fo' dis moke dat he can expec'. Yo' done got Gin'ral Jackson back fo' me, an' dat odder feller found his bicycle, too. Ah 'lows yo' must hab been in er hurry, 'case yo' didn't wait fo' me to tell yo' Ah was obliged fo' whut yo' done. Lucky Ah seed yo' while Ah was passin' Mars Boggs' place. Close tuh where dat white boy found his bicycle dar was somefin' right on de aidge o' de bridge. Ah gaddered it in, en Ah thought mebby yo' was de one whut drapped hit. Ah was wonderin' en mah ole head how Ah was gwine tuh diskibber whedder what Ah found belonged tuh you—en heah, right when Ah was gittin' clost tuh home, Ah done sees yuh! Ain't dat fine? Somefin' strodinary 'bout dat."

A faint hope was rising in Motor Matt's breast, but it was very faint. The foundation of it was almost too preposterous for belief.

"What did you find, Neb?" he asked.

"Ah don't know whedder hit amounts to nuffin' er not, but Ah reckons yo' kin tell."

Thereupon Neb shoved one hand into a pocket of his tattered coat and brought out, mixed in his yellow palm with two nails, a fishline, and a piece of chewing tobacco——

The Eye of Buddha!

It was almost sunset, and the early shadows were beginning to fly over the eastern borders of the Catskills, but there was enough light to strike sparkling crimson gleams from the fateful gem that lay in the old darky's hand.

"Does dat 'ar thing b'long tuh yo', boss?" said Neb Hogan.

"Hold it just that way for a minute, Neb," returned Matt.

Then quickly he slipped the cords from the mandarin's wrists.

"Look up, Tsan Ti," went on Matt. "See here a minute."

Apathetically the mandarin raised his head. His gaze fell on the red gem, glittering amid the poor treasures which the old negro "toted" in his pocket.

The mandarin's body stiffened, his hands flew to his forehead, and he gazed spellbound; then, with a hoarse cry, he caught the ruby from Neb's hand, pushed it against his breast, and fell to his knees, muttering wildly in his native tongue.

"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Banks. "Is that the idol's eye, Matt?"

Matt nodded.

"You found that red jewel at the edge of the bridge, you say, Neb?"

"Dat's whar Ah done picked it up. What is dat thing, anyhow? By golly, dat Chinymum ack lak he done gone crazy."

"It's a ruby, Neb," explained Matt, "and very valuable. The Chinaman who stole your mule had taken the ruby away from this other Chinaman, and was trying to escape with it. General Jackson wouldn't take the bridge, and the Chinaman on his back kicked and pounded him so that the mule bucked and tossed him to the edge of the bridge. Before the Chinaman could save himself he fell into the creek. The ruby must have dropped out of his pocket upon the planks of the bridge. I didn't see it, though, and it remained for you to pick it up."

"By golly!" breathed Neb. "Ain't dat a mos' 'sprisin' purceedin'? Ah done finds de ruby fo' de feller whut got mah mu-el back fo' me. Is we squar' now, boss?"

"Square?" laughed Matt. "Why, Neb, we're a whole lot more than square. How much do you think that ruby's worth?"

"Kain't be hit's worf mo' dan ten dollahs, I reckons," he guessed.

"It's worth thousands of dollars, Neb!"

"Go 'long wif yo' foolishness! Dat red thing kain't be worf all dat money, nohow. Yo's foolin' de pore ole moke."

"It's the truth, Neb."

Tsan Ti, jabbering wildly, arose from his bended knees and pulled his alligator-skin pouch from his blouse.

"Excellent stranger of the dusky race," said he, "I gather from what I hear that I am in your debt for the recovery of the Eye of Buddha. Will it insult you if I offer, of my goodness of heart, five hundred dollars?"

Neb Hogan nearly fell from General Jackson's back.

"Whut's dat he's er-sayin' tuh me?" he asked, rolling up the whites of his eyes. "Talkin' 'bout five—five hunnerd dollahs, en 'bout insultin' me wif it. By golly, Ah's brack, but Ah don't 'low no yalluh trash tuh mek spo't ob me. Somebody hole mah mu-el twill Ah climb down. Five hunnerd dollahs! Ah won't 'low no Chinymun tuh say no such thing. Ah—Ah——"

Words died on the old negro's lips. Tsan Ti had pushed a bundle of money up in front of his face, and Neb was gazing at the bills like one demented.

"Accept of my gratitude, illustrious one," chanted the mandarin. "You are worthy—it is little enough."

The darky tried to talk, but the words stuck in his throat. Mechanically he took the bills, smoothed them out in his hands, and finally pushed them into his pocket.

"Ah reckons dishyer's a dream," he managed to gasp finally. "Ah reckons Ah'll wake up tuh heah Mandy buildin' de fiah fo' breakfus. Eider dat, or Ah's suah gone crazy."

Then, turning General Jackson, Neb Hogan rode out of the gate, looking back fearfully as long as he was in sight, wondering, no doubt, if those he had left were not the phantoms of his disordered imagination.

This little scene had been enacted under the eyes of McGlory and the prisoners in the blue touring car. Grattan's feelings, perhaps, may be imagined better than described. McGlory was "stumped," as he would have expressed it.

"Now that Tsan Ti has got the ruby again, pard," called the cowboy, "I move we pack him in a box, idol's eye and all, and turn him over to the express company for safe transportation to Canton. If we don't, something is sure going to happen to him."

"Nothing will happen to him now," said Matt. "The men he had to fear are in the custody of the law, and from now on Tsan Ti will experience no more trouble."

"Esteemed friend," palpitated the overjoyed mandarin, "I shall yet deposit the ruby in the express company's care as soon as I get to Catskill. The lessons I have had are sufficient."

"That's the talk!" approved the cowboy.

"What shall we do with Sam Wing?" asked Matt.

For an instant a flash of rage drove the happiness from the mandarin's eyes. But the flash died as swiftly as it came.

"Have you a knife, illustrious youth?" inquired the mandarin.

"Better keep it, pard!" warned McGlory. "Tsan Ti's going to do for Wing!"

But Matt believed otherwise. Taking his knife from his pocket, he handed it to Tsan Ti and the latter went into the barn. He reappeared in a few moments, and Sam Wing, freed of his ropes, accompanied him.

Harsh words in Chinese broke from Tsan Ti's lips. He talked for perhaps two minutes steadily, the harshness leaving his voice as the torrent of speech flowed on. When he had finished, he reached into his alligator-skin pouch, brought out some money, and placed it in Sam Wing's hand; then, sternly, he pointed toward the road.

"What a fool!" growled Grattan.

"Why didn't he send the thief over the road?" muttered Pardo.

"Speak to me about this!" cried McGlory.

"Looks like there was a few things we could learn from the chinks," pondered Banks.

"You're right, Mr. Banks," said Matt. "Tsan Ti is the right sort, and I'm glad I did what I could to help him. Let's start for Catskill—I suppose Martin is back there, by this time, and wondering what has become of Joe and me. Ready for New York in the morning, Joe?"

"I'm ready," was the prompt response, "but will we go?"

"I believe we will," said Matt, climbing into the roadster. "We've seen the last of the hoodoo. Get in, Tsan Ti, and we'll hit it up between here and Catskill. You're to ride with me."

THE END.

MOTOR STORIES

THRILLING ADVENTUREMOTOR FICTION

NEW YORK, October 2, 1909.

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