The Flying Boat Part 8

Burroughs.

"Mr. Ted has lost his flying boat, I hear," he said unconcernedly.

"Yes," replied the agent. "It was stolen yesterday."

"Well, the thieves apparently didn't know what to do with it. You'll find it in the creek just below Mr. Stevens' wharf."

"You don't say so, Mr. Errington! That's extraordinary. I'll wire to Sui-Fu at once."

"You had better say that you'll send it down in tow of the first steamer. That'll be safe enough, I think."

"I'll do that; but maybe Mr. Ted will come up and fetch it himself. I'm glad it's so soon found, any way."

"Yes. And oh!--I say, you needn't mention me," said Errington as he walked out of the office.

The agent telegraphed the bare news of the recovery of the vessel, and asked for instructions. But thinking over the matter, he felt a little puzzled at Errington's manner, and made a shrewd guess that he had somehow gained possession of the stolen vessel. He wrote next day to Burroughs, mentioning his suspicion.

Burroughs, who had himself housed the flying boat on the night preceding the disappearance, and heard of the theft early next morning, was naturally delighted to hear that his vessel had been recovered. But he felt somewhat surprised that it had been found at such a distance up the river. He had at once suspected that the theft was the work of river pirates, but so far as he knew they were quite unfamiliar with the working of a petrol motor, and they could hardly have towed the vessel so far against a strong current in the time which had elapsed between its loss and its recovery. He telegraphed to his agent to report how much petrol there was on board, and the reply that the tank was nearly full, and that there were two unopened cans besides, confirmed his belief that the boat had not travelled under its own power.

This made him suspect that it had been carried up on some larger vessel; but no steamer had gone in that direction, nor was it in any case likely that the boat would have been put on board any of the regular steamers--unless some one had purloined it for a joke. That was inconceivable. He mentioned the matter to his comprador, Sing Wen, who said that he would make inquiries.

Later in the day, the comprador reported that Reinhardt's motor launch had been seen within a few miles of the port, shortly before dark on the evening of the theft. A telegram to his agent brought the news that the launch had pa.s.sed Chia-ling Fu on the following morning. Putting these two facts together, Burroughs came to the conclusion that the German had been concerned in the theft, though for what motive he could not imagine.

His agent's letter, suggesting that Errington had at least played some part in its recovery, gave him a good deal of pleasure. The severance of their friendship had troubled him, and Errington's complete silence since his removal to Chia-ling Fu had inflicted a deep wound. To him, looking back upon it, the cause of the quarrel appeared too trumpery to justify a permanent breach; but knowing his old friend's temper, he had hesitated to take the first step towards a reconciliation. And being somewhat stiff-necked himself when he believed that he was in the right, he could not bring himself to apologize for a wrong which he had not done.

Now, however, there seemed to be an opening, and he wrote to Errington the following note:--

"MY DEAR PIDGE,

"I've just heard that I owe the recovery of the old flier to you. Many thanks. I'm burning to know more about it, and would run up if I weren't too busy just now. When I can find time I shall come, and give you a call. I hope you like your new quarters.

"Yours ever, "THE MOLE."

Errington read the note with a curling lip.

"He thinks I've forgotten, does he?" he thought.

And he tore the note across, and threw it petulantly into the waste-paper basket.

CHAPTER IX

SU FING'S PRISONER

Four days after Burroughs dispatched his letter to Errington, when the lapse of time showed pretty plainly that it was not likely to get an answer, he received a visit from Mr. Ting. The merchant, though he had refused Errington's request for help, had not done so out of hard-heartedness or stinginess, but from a wish that the boy should learn a severe lesson, that would leave an enduring stamp. But when he had gone a few days' journey down the river his heart smote him. He was young enough himself to understand the racking anxiety which his old friend's son was suffering; and his knowledge of the desperate expedients to which hara.s.sed young fellows sometimes resorted, made him decide to return to Chia-ling Fu, so that he might be at hand to rescue Errington from the worst consequences of his folly.

He had called at Sui-Fu on his way up a few days before, intending to find out from Burroughs more precise details of Errington's circ.u.mstances; for as yet he had not heard of the split between the two friends. But Burroughs chanced to be absent up country, and they did not meet. On this second occasion, however, Burroughs was in his office when the Chinaman called.

"How d'you do, Mr. Ting?" he said; "sorry I wasn't in the other day.

All well at Shanghai?"

"Yes, when I left. That is now some days ago. You are doing well, your father says."

"Rubbing along, you know. These disturbances up the river aren't good for business."

"That is tlue. And your flend Pidge--I have his school name, you see--will know that even better than you. I saw him a few days ago."

Burroughs did not reply, and Mr. Ting's observant eyes detected an air of constraint in his manner.

"You do not see him so often now, of course," the Chinaman went on.

"That is a pity, when you are such good flends. It is a pity, too, that he is so fa' away. He did not look well: do you know what tloubles him?"

"He hasn't said anything to me," said Burroughs, looking still more uncomfortable.

"He has not sent you a letter lately?"

"No," said Burroughs, adding hastily: "but I wrote to him a few days ago."

"And you have heard of no tlouble he is in?" Mr. Ting persisted.

Burroughs hesitated: it was his way to think before he spoke. He had heard only gossip about the card-playing that went on at Chia-ling Fu, and it seemed hardly fair to Errington to discuss his personal matters merely on hearsay. Mr. Ting, of course, was his friend; all the more reason, thought Burroughs, for not telling what Errington himself had evidently not told. But Mr. Ting seemed to divine what was pa.s.sing in the boy's mind.

"I think you had better tell me all about it," he said quietly. "I have a good leason for asking: we are both his flends. Tlouble neglected becomes still more tloublesome, as we say. Tell me, then."

"The truth is," said Burroughs, won over by the Chinaman's evident sincerity, "Pidge and I have had a row. A ridiculous cause. He thought I doubted his honour; I lost my wool----"

"Your wool! I do not understand: is it not cotton?"

"My temper, I mean," said Burroughs, with a smile. "A silly thing to do, because you always say more than you mean."

"Ah yes! Anger is a little fire: if it is not checked, it burns down a lofty pile. Well?"

"We parted on bad terms, and haven't spoken since. He said he wouldn't have anything to do with me till I apologized."

"And the apology? You sent it in your letter?"

"No, I'm sorry to say I didn't. Idiotic pride on my part, for of course I never really doubted him; only after you've had a row it's jolly hard to say so--to a fellow like me, at any rate."

"Then you come with me, and you shall be flends again. The yielding tongue endures: the stubborn teeth pelish. Now you have had confidence in me, I will be open too. Pidge has been gambling."

"I know," said Burroughs gloomily.

"And he owes a thousand dollars or mo'e. We must save him flom the men who have led him away, and turn him flom gambling. I asked him to plomise not to gamble again: he would not; plaps for you he will."