The mules having been reduced to order, Ah-Sam returned to face the captain, kow-towed again, and repeated his story. The Russian had already countermanded the order to his men, and was clearly hesitating. He was a good-tempered-looking fellow, thought Bob,—a young clean-limbed captain, picturesque in his long silver-ornamented coat and astrakhan cap. Interrupting Ah-Sam’s shrill sing-song of protest, he demanded to see the receipts which the muleteer doubtless possessed if his story was true. The Chinaman instantly produced a number of papers from a bag tied beneath his coat, and handed them to the captain, who examined them carefully. They were unmistakably receipts, in proper Chinese form, and recognizing that he might get into hot water with the authorities if he delayed the procuring of the supplies so urgently needed, he at length said that he would be satisfied with three of the mules, and when these had been unyoked, gave the Chinaman permission to proceed. Before he rode off, however, he asked, as by an afterthought, a question which appeared to be incomprehensible to Ah-Sam, who looked puzzled, then asked a question in return. The captain smiled as he explained to his lieutenant what the Chinaman had said; both laughed heartily; then the word was given, and the troop rode off in the opposite direction to that from which they had come. Bob had been waiting for an opportunity to tackle Ah-Sam on the matter of the whip. While it was well, no doubt, to keep up their character as master and man, he had a suspicion that the Chinaman had laid on with unnecessary vigour, perhaps to experiment on the quality of the foreigner he was escorting. When, therefore, the Cossacks were safely out of earshot, Bob went forward and sat beside Ah-Sam. "What was the Russian laughing at?" he said. "Ch’hoy! He say, hab my see one piecee Yinkelis man what lun wailo? My say, what likee Yinkelis man my savvy tiger, bear, monkey, hairy Ainu; Yinkelis man belongey likum he?" "Oh! And I suppose you hit me with the whip to make it quite clear that I was not an Englishman. You hit me like this, you know." Bob suddenly rose, took the Chinaman’s whip, and gave him a smart cut. Ah-Sam yelled. "He hurtee velly muchee," he said, rubbing the place. "Yes, I know. If we meet any more Russians, perhaps you can prove I am not the runaway Englishman without using your whip." "My no hit massa no mo’e; my member plenty too muchee, no fear!" *CHAPTER XIV* *Mrs. Isidore G. Pottle* Fair Captives—Pidgin—Among the Chunchuses—Seeking Cover—A Breathing Space—A Picnic