"And yours, Jack?" asked Ned.

"Just a few burrs gone."

"And mine is o.k.," Ned went on, "except that the carburetor has been
tampered with. I think we'll get off for Peking before long."

"How?" demanded Jimmie. "We can't make burrs out of wood, or patch up
with rat pie, which seems to be about the only thing we have plenty of.
I don't suppose we can get repairs in this yellow hole."

Ned took a handbag from under the burlap. "I am carrying my own repair
shop with me," he said, taking out a box of burrs and a pair of pincers.
"I've got all the small parts right here in duplicate, and some of the
larger ones are in the big suitcase."

"You're a wonder!" Jimmie cried, dancing about his chum and wrinkling
his nose until it looked like that of a comedian in a motion picture.
"I wonder if you haven't got a hunk of Washington pie in that keyster!"

The lads fell to work on their machines, and in a very short time all
were ready for the road. Then Ned put away his handbag and began an
examination of the large suitcase, which contained the larger repairs
for the motorcycles. It had not been molested.

"There's one thing certain," he said, "and that is that the Chinese who
are watching us expect us to make a dash for Peking. They took the
pains to leave our machines in such shape that their tampering with them
would not be suspected. I'd like to know just when this mischief was