"We shall really have to sack those fellows," said Burroughs. "It is getting intolerable." "Let us go and knock their heads together first," said Errington. "I should be sorry to lose Lo San." "He’s not a patch on Chin Tai at looking after one’s clothes," said Burroughs, loyal to his man. "But Lo San’s heaps better in serving at table." "He can’t polish boots." "Chin Tai can’t clean a gun." "Well, hadn’t we better have it out ourselves first?" said Burroughs, laughing. "Great Scott! there’ll be murder soon. Come on, Pidge." They hastened to the kitchen. The two boys had each other by the pigtail with one hand, and with the other were drawing streaks on each other’s face. Burroughs dragged them apart. "Hai! You piecee ruffians! What fo’ you makee this infernal bobbely?" he said. "He call me foolo!" "He say my plenty muchee fathead!" "He say my no can do card-pidgin!" "He say my tellum plenty lies, talkee foolo pidgin all time." "Hold your tongues, both of you!" cried Burroughs. "Chin Tai, if you can’t keep the peace, I’ll cut off your pigtail and send you home to your grandmother." "Massa say muss belongey good up outside olo ribber, can do plenty fightee wailo Sui-Fu," Chin Tai protested with an aggrieved air. "But I said you were to fight quietly, not yell the house down. Now I forbid you to fight at all, do you understand?" "You too, Lo San," said Errington. "No more of it, or off you go." "My fightee he inside," said Lo San. "My callee he plenty bad namee--inside," said Chin Tai. "Well, what you do inside is nothing to me," said Burroughs, repressing a smile. "Perhaps if you take care to behave outside, you’ll be friends inside by and by." There was no more fighting; the peace of the house was no more disturbed; but while China boys are China boys, Lo San and Chin Tai will never cease to look jealously upon each other as long as they serve two masters whom they equally respect. Some three weeks after the escape from Su Fing’s yamen, a pleasant little party sat at table in the dining-room of Mr. Burroughs’ house at Shanghai. Mr. Burroughs and his family were there; the only guests were Pierce Errington and Mr. Ting. They were all very merry. Four of the party heard the full story of the flying boat’s adventures for the first time, and as Errington had a pretty art of humorous narrative, there was much laughter at the tale of Reinhardt’s moustache and the vicissitudes in the career of Chung Pi. When Mrs. Burroughs and her daughter--whom Errington looked on very kindly--had left the men to themselves, Mr. Ting put on his spectacles. "Look out!" Errington whispered to Burroughs. "There’s something in the wind when Tingy puts on the goggles." Mr. Ting glanced benevolently round the table, his eyes resting with peculiar intensity on Errington--the old Pidge whom everybody loved, with not a care upon his clear, fresh countenance. Lighting a cigarette, the Chinaman said quietly--