“Because that society stands for all that is bad in China. It has ever been opposed to Christianity, and is the persecutor of Christian missionaries. It was at the head of the late Boxer rising. It did its best—or its worst—to kill every missionary in China. The destruction of this society, which lives and thrives on all that is superstitious, magical, heathenish, and degrading, would aid in the advancement of Christianity in China more than any other thing possibly could. Without the aid of this little black stick their head men cannot work their most powerful charms or perform their most amazing feats of black magic. Now, decide whether the stick should be returned to them or not.” “If not,” muttered Starbright, “it should be destroyed.” “And the man who destroyed it would forever have a hideous shadow hanging over him, as such an act would doom him to strangulation by some member of the society, and every member is sworn to know no rest till the guilty one is found and punished. The persistence with which these men follow up such a hunt is terrifying. They are like bloodhounds on the scent.” “You have said quite enough,” laughed Frank. “Had you not said half as much, I should have returned the stick to you. I have no fancy to be harassed and hunted by a lot of Chinese thugs. Here, sir, is the stick.” The stranger bowed low and expressed his thanks as he received the mysterious little article from Merry’s hand. “But now,” he said, as he slipped it into his bosom, “it will be well for you to be on your guard, Mr. Merriwell.” “What do you mean?” “The stick has been seen in your possession.” “Well?” “You will be hunted and dogged by men determined to obtain it from you.” “Whew! Then I am not getting rid of the hoodoo when I give it up to you?” “No.” “But I shall tell them I have given it up.” “To whom?” smiled the stranger, in a mysterious way. “You do not know my name. You do not know where to find me. You do not know anything about me. You see——” “Then why don’t you give your name?” cried Starbright. “Because I do not wish to—because this trail must be broken here. I do not wish to be hunted by those cursed Chinese cutthroats!” “Was that the reason why you did not give your name when we first met a short time ago?” “Perhaps so; perhaps not.” “It was not!” roared Dick. “I know the reason, and I——” “Stop!” commanded Frank, his eyes flashing. “You are forgetting yourself, Starbright!” The big Andover man stood glaring at the stranger, who was quite unmoved. Dick’s eyes were gleaming, and he seemed to long to attack the possessor of the mystic stick then and there. “Your friend is excitable, Mr. Merriwell,” said the unknown. “Why should he care to know my name?” “Oh, I have a reason!” asserted Starbright. “And I have a reason for declining to give it—just now. Some time, perhaps, I may choose to make myself known to Frank Merriwell.”