"Ah-Sam has plenty of food—of a sort," said Bob, smiling. "And perhaps, Mrs. Pottle, while we are doing what we can to strengthen the position, you won’t mind preparing a meal." "Of course not. If only I could get a cup of tea!" "Ah-Sam has tea, and rice, and millet, and a few other things." "The dear man! But a kettle?" "He has a pot, and an oil-lamp, anu plenty of matches." "A treasure! Let us have the things, and I will turn up my sleeves and set to work. There is water in the stream. Ethel, my love, we shall have a cup of tea for the first time in six weeks. Come and help me." Bob admired Mrs. Pottle’s spirit. Leaving the ladies to themselves, he assisted Ah-Sam to unyoke the team and drag them higher up the ravine, where they tethered the animals to the trunks of some overhanging trees, and supplied them with fodder from the cart. Then, with some difficulty, they pushed and rolled some of the smaller boulders in front of the vehicle, arranging them in such a way that loopholes were left between them covering every part of the approach. The position was now such that the little party was effectually concealed from the road below; but Bob knew that their presence could not remain undiscovered, for the cart and the animals had left very distinct traces in the snow and mud. Everything possible having now been done, Bob went once more to the mouth of the gully to reconnoitre. There was as yet no sign of the brigands. He was still looking out across the hills when Ah-Sam came up, carrying a pot of rice. "Chow-chow allo leady, massa," he said. "My fetchee chow-chow this-side; ch’hoy! women boilum tings, spoilum tea; China boy no can dlink it; too muchee stlong for China side; no allo plopa; Yinkelis man hab got numpa one tummy; can dlink anyting." "I’m afraid we do make it too strong. But I’ll explain to the ladies; you shall have some made specially weak for you. Stay here and keep watch while I get something to eat, and come back at once if you see any sign of the Chunchuses." "Allo lightee, massa. My hab catchee plenty chow-chow. No fear!" Bob returned to the ladies. "Come, Mr. Fawcett," cried Mrs. Pottle. "I’ve just finished my fourth cup. Capital tea, even without cream and sugar. But I don’t understand your man. I thought Chinamen liked tea, and I gave Ah-Sam a particularly strong cup. He was positively rude—used most sinful language, and actually threw it away. You must be thirsty; now do drink this, and here is some rice—chow, your man called it; I thought that was the Chinese for dog?" "Yes," said Bob with a twinkle, "or any other form of food." "Disgusting!" exclaimed Ethel. "Surely it is not true?" "I’m afraid it is. Fido is quite a standing dish in China." Mrs. Pottle looked horrified. "I wonder," she said reflectively, "what that stew was they gave us yesterday?..." Her speculations were broken in upon by the sight of Ah-Sam running up the gully.