"These advantages? Yes, they may be advantages to your people. But are they so for mine?" "Certainly; flesh and blood are flesh and blood the world over." "Each race to its own," said Big Sam. "I can not take the risk of leaving her to die under the white doctor’s treatment." "She is much the more likely to die if you bring her to Chinatown," I argued. Big Sam’s face recovered its firm determination, and I saw that the superstition and ancestor-worshiping elements imbibed with his mother’s milk had overwhelmed education and reason in the crisis at which he felt he had arrived. "I must look to my own welfare," he said with decision. "A war among the tongs would be fatal to the interests of the Chinese. And if the girl dies--especially if she dies under the white doctor’s care--it would be quite beyond my power to prevent an outbreak." "I have no doubt your interests are important," I began, when he interrupted me. "Important! they are everything. I must ask you to see that the girl is returned here this morning. I will send for two of our best Chinese doctors to care for her." "I protest against your decision," I said. "It is not your place to protest or assent," said. Big Sam, with an air of command. "Nor to act against my judgment," I added. "Oh, if you refuse to act, I must find another messenger," said Big Sam calmly. "Permit me to thank you for what you have done, and to say that when I can be of service I am yours to command." The dignity and courtesy with which he spoke were almost regal. "Oh, I refuse nothing," I replied. "But you will have to reckon with another person than me. I shall take your request to Miss Kendrick; but, whatever I may think about it, the final decision will be in her hands." Big Sam looked thoughtfully at me for more than a minute before he spoke. "That was a phase of the problem I had not considered," he said slowly. "I had forgotten that yours is not the ruling sex in the white race." Big Sam’s voice was innocent of sarcasm, and he appeared to be considering an impersonal problem. "If you want to get your girl, I advise you to see Miss Kendrick yourself," I said. Big Sam looked at me gravely. "I should not venture to be so rude to Mr. Kendrick as to look upon the women of his household," he said with a trace of rebuke in his tone; yet I felt that this oriental excuse was but a pretense. "I am sure," he added, with a significant glance, "that I could not have a better advocate than the one I send." Something in the tone rather than in the words sent the blood to my face, and in some confusion I rose. "An advocate who speaks against his judgment is not likely to be of much value," I said. "And you a lawyer!" he exclaimed. He rose and accompanied me to the door, then halted and stamped three times on the floor. "I had almost forgotten," he said with an enigmatic smile. As he spoke there was again the rumbling as of a heavy table moved across the floor.