It was a pleasant night on which the two men set out. Fabian had a rig waiting at the corner of the street; Tie Co, dressed in citizen’s clothes, stepped into it unobserved, and the smuggler and would-be-smuggled were soon out of the city. They had a merry drive, for Fabian’s liking for Tie Co was very real; he had known him for several years, and the lad’s quick intelligence interested him. The second day they left their horse at a farmhouse, where Fabian would call for it on his return trip, crossed a river in a row-boat before the sun was up, and plunged into a wood in which they would remain till evening. It was raining, but through mud and wind and rain they trudged slowly and heavily. Tie Co paused now and then to take breath. Once Fabian remarked: “You are not a very strong lad, Tie Co. It’s a pity you have to work as you do for your living,” and Tie Co had answered: “Work velly good! No work, Tie Co die.” Fabian looked at the lad protectingly, wondering in a careless way why this Chinaman seemed to him so different from the others. “Wouldn’t you like to be back in China?” he asked. “No,” said Tie Co decidedly. “Why?” “I not know why,” answered Tie Co. Fabian laughed. “Haven’t you got a nice little wife at home?” he continued. “I hear you people marry very young.” “No, I no wife,” asserted his companion with a choky little laugh. “I never have no wife.” “Nonsense,” joked Fabian. “Why, Tie Co, think how nice it would be to have a little woman cook your rice and to love you.” “I not have wife,” repeated Tie Co seriously. “I not like woman, I like man.” “You confirmed old bachelor!” ejaculated Fabian. “I like you,” said Tie Co, his boyish voice sounding clear and sweet in the wet woods. “I like you so much that I want go to New York, so you make fifty dollars. I no flend in New York.” “What!” exclaimed Fabian. “Oh, I solly I tell you, Tie Co velly solly,” and the Chinese boy shuffled on with bowed head. “Look here, Tie Co,” said Fabian; “I won’t have you do this for my sake. You have been very foolish, and I don’t care for your fifty dollars. I do not need it half as much as you do. Good God! how ashamed you make me feel—I who have blown in my thousands in idle pleasures cannot take the little you have slaved for. We are in New York State now. When we get out of this wood we will have to walk over a bridge which crosses a river. On the other side, not far from where we cross, there is a railway station. Instead of buying you a ticket for the city of New York I shall take train with you for Toronto.” Tie Co did not answer—he seemed to be thinking deeply. Suddenly he pointed to where some fallen trees lay. “Two men run away behind there,” cried he. Fabian looked round them anxiously; his keen eyes seemed to pierce the gloom in his endeavor to catch a glimpse of any person; but no man was visible, and, save the dismal sighing of the wind among the trees, all was quiet.