” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. "Why shouldn't a Chinaman be honest? Ah, yes; I know. I—well, I lost my temper. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Maggot.
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