While this low, rapid dialogue was taking place Billie, standing on the
front seat of the "Comet" on the lookout for help, saw something that
made her blood turn cold. A band of fierce looking young men in Japanese
costume was approaching on the run. The leader was brandishing a short
knife with a two-edged glittering blade and the others flourished sword
canes. Billie was thankful that Miss Campbell was too much occupied at
that moment in assuring the poor mother that her child was not injured to
notice this murderous looking company. Komatsu had quietly placed himself
beside the car, faithful soul, ready to die in the service of his ladies.

Were they all going to be cut to pieces or was only the "Comet" to be
sacrificed in revenge for the accident?

The Motor Maids exchanged frightened glances.

"If I only knew six words in Japanese," thought Billie.

"Make honorable quickness to descend, gracious lady. Come, come," Komatsu
urged. "To jinriksha. Leave red devil-wagon. This place no good for
staying in."

"Oh, Komatsu, try and reason with them," pleaded Billie. "We don't want
to lose the 'Comet,' It wasn't his fault. He was going quite slowly. He
didn't mean to hurt the little boy. He's the kindest hearted old thing.
It wasn't anybody's fault. Can't you tell them that?"

Billie was too distracted and unhappy to realize how absurd her words
might have sounded to any English-speaking person. It had always seemed
to her that a real heart beat somewhere in the mechanical organism of the