cut off."

Cruchot scowled. The Chinago was carrying the foolishness too far.

"I am not Ah Chow--" Ah Cho began.

"That will do," the gendarme interrupted. He puffed up his cheeks and
strove to appear fierce.

"I tell you I am not--" Ah Cho began again.

"Shut up!" bawled Cruchot.

After that they rode along in silence. It was twenty miles from Papeete to
Atimaono, and over half the distance was covered by the time the Chinago
again ventured into speech.

"I saw you in the court room, when the honourable judge sought after our
guilt," he began. "Very good. And do you remember that Ah Chow, whose
head is to be cut off--do you remember that he--Ah Chow--was a tall man?
Look at me."

He stood up suddenly, and Cruchot saw that he was a short man. And just as
suddenly Cruchot caught a glimpse of a memory picture of Ah Chow, and in
that picture Ah Chow was tall. To the gendarme all Chinagos looked alike.
One face was like another. But between tallness and shortness he could
differentiate, and he knew that he had the wrong man beside him on the
seat. He pulled up the mules abruptly, so that the pole shot ahead of
them, elevating their collars.