"I'm coming," he called to the servant, and turned and ran through the
trees toward the carriage.



THE CHINAGO

"The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man departs."
--Tahitian proverb.

Ah Cho did not understand French. He sat in the crowded court room, very
weary and bored, listening to the unceasing, explosive French that now one
official and now another uttered. It was just so much gabble to Ah Cho,
and he marvelled at the stupidity of the Frenchmen who took so long to find
out the murderer of Chung Ga, and who did not find him at all. The five
hundred coolies on the plantation knew that Ah San had done the killing,
and here was Ah San not even arrested. It was true that all the coolies
had agreed secretly not to testify against one another; but then, it was so
simple, the Frenchmen should have been able to discover that Ah San was the
man. They were very stupid, these Frenchmen.

Ah Cho had done nothing of which to be afraid. He had had no hand in the
killing. It was true he had been present at it, and Schemmer, the overseer
on the plantation, had rushed into the barracks immediately afterward and
caught him there, along with four or five others; but what of that? Chung
Ga had been stabbed only twice. It stood to reason that five or six men
could not inflict two stab wounds. At the most, if a man had struck but
once, only two men could have done it.

So it was that Ah Cho reasoned, when he, along with his four companions,