on a low embankment, and rounded a sharp curve before it reached the
station, a few yards beyond. The roar of the oncoming train was borne
to them on the wind and before it emerged from the cut a ridiculous
little figure darted out of the crowd on the platform and raced down
the track to the curve. It was dressed in a Chinese blouse and
trousers of faded and dirty blue denim, while a pair of old Chinese
slippers, partly covering the feet, left in full view two bare, brown
heels.

"There goes Wing!" exclaimed one man to another. "That kid 's going to
get killed at this little trick of his some day."

The train rushed at the curve with a shout that was thrown back from
the hills, and the people on the platform held their breath--though to
many of them it was nothing new--as with flying feet and monkey-like
agility the Chinee Kid danced backward on the track. There was a brief
vision of a pair of big, blue sleeves waving in the air, of a black,
flying queue, and of a pair of twinkling feet, and then with sparkling
eyes, a triumphant countenance and a loud "Ki-yi!" Wing leaped to the
platform, the engine scarcely a yard behind him.

"Is it lots of fun, Wing?" said Annie, smiling at him indulgently.

"Bet your boots it is!" he shouted as he darted off to inspect the
dismounting passengers.

"See here, Wing," said Ellison, putting his hand in a kindly way on the
boy's shoulder, "you mustn't do that! You'll get killed at it some
day."