 
# Jasmine Passion

### The Historical Romance Collection Book 4

## Fancy DeWitt

### Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Also by Fancy DeWitt

About the Author
**Jasmine Passion**

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by

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Fancy DeWitt

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Kindle Edition

© Copyright 2016 Fancy DeWitt

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City Lights Press

P.O. Box 620427

Las Vegas, NV 89162

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-62918-974-1

# Chapter 1

_C anton, China_

_June 1860_

* * *

The evening air was mild with late spring and carried the fragrance of jasmines from the garden on the kiss of its soft breath. Two dozen lanterns hung from the trees, casting a soft golden light on a table which was set up in the garden and laden with succulent foods and rice and fruit wines.

Around the outside of the garden armed men stood guard, protecting the sanctuary from anyone who might try to enter without authorization. Inside, servants- slipped back and forth on whispering feet, carrying heavy bowls and trays to the table and taking away those which had been emptied.

The party was being given by Lo Ching, a Manchu prince and the ruler of the province of Kwangtung. Though Lo Ching had a summer residence in the mountains of Suehfeng Shan, he spent most of his time in Canton because Canton, with its many merchant warehouses, was the seat of wealth for the province.

The partygoers ate well: it was the will of Lo Ching that all who attended his parties leave with the knowledge that never had they been better fed. The dinner started with dim sum, which were tiny rolls filled with a variety of meats, fish, poultry, and vegetables. An egg dish with noodles and pork followed, and finally the servants brought out _het ba ting got_ , a spicy beef dish with fried cucumbers, bean sprouts, water chestnuts, and snow peas.

The waterfront area of Canton was crowded with docks, jetties, and warehouses (called factories by the Chinese), while the tidal basin of the river was just as crowded with Chinese junks. The junks were unique craft. Here, entire generations were born, were raised, and died without ever setting foot on land. Here, too, were the communities of foreigners—Americans, British, Spanish, Dutch, and French- living in crowded conditions, unable to move freely through the streets of Canton because they were regarded by the Chinese as Fan Kuei, or barbaric demons. That the two elements coexisted at all was a testament to mutual greed.

One of the newest Fan Kuei to arrive in Canton was Captain Jim Lyons, master of the clipper ship _Thunderbolt_. Jim was present at the party in order to conclude a trading agreement with Lo Ching and the merchants. From the table Lo Ching's guests could see Jim's ship at anchor. She was clearly discernible from among the Chinese junks and the squat, fat merchant ships of the other nations, because the _Thunderbolt_ was long and slender, with wand-thin masts, bare of sail now, but reaching rakishly into the sky with enough arms to spread acres of canvas.

Captain Lyons and Lo Ching spoke of sailing times and spoilage and distances and cargoes and of other things which a girl named Pai found singularly uninteresting, so the fact that she was seated at the far end of the low, tiled table, didn't bother her. For from her vantage point she was able to observe Captain Lyons without herself being observed. In that she was like a frog on a lily pad, sitting quietly, blending with the background so as to become invisible.

It was necessary for Pai to be invisible, for if she had been discovered at the party, there would have been trouble. Pai was the daughter of Lo Ching, and, as a princess, she was strictly forbidden to have any social contact with outsiders. When the merchants and the warriors came to Lo Ching's parties, Pai was banished to her room. It was not an austere banishment, for Pai's room was many times larger than the average dwelling in Canton, and it was richly appointed with the most beautiful works of art and tapestries of silk, and decorated with objects of gold and precious stone. She had several servants at her beck and call, though her handmaiden and friend, Tsu, was the one upon whom she depended most. Pai could partake of any of the delicacies of the party just by asking, but of course, it wasn't the food Pai missed. It was the excitement of the party itself.

And thus it was, with Tsu's help, that Pai had begun the risky but most exciting adventure of disguising herself so that she could attend the parties. Once she disguised herself as a serving girl. How shocked the merchants would have been had they known that the drinking goblets they held out so casually were being refilled by the Princess herself! Another time she was a dancer; tonight she had disguised herself as the daughter of a merchant. The merchants' daughters were seated together at the far end of the table. Since it was not necessary to pair off with their fathers, Pai was able to blend in.

This party was the fourth one Pai had attended in such a way, and it was the first time she had ever been attracted to one of the men guests. But tonight Pai was attracted to the American. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a shock of hair the color of straw and eyes as blue as the sapphires in Pais jewelry. His voice was deep, and when he tried to be gracious and speak in the Cantonese dialect, there was a sense of romance in his accent.

Pai could speak and understand English. She also spoke French, Spanish, and Dutch: Pai spent most of her time studying with private tutors. Private tutors, private doctors, private hairdressers, private dressmakers—every person Pai saw she saw in the confines of the palace, and that made for a very cloistered life. It was not a life Pai enjoyed. There were millions of young girls all across China, Pai knew, who dreamed of being a princess and who thought there could be no greater life on earth. They did not realize that Pai would have traded places with anyone of them for the right to move about freely and see others.

Pai summoned Tsu to her side, and the handmaiden was careful to show her the deference due a young woman of the wealthy merchant class, but stopped short of the obsequiousness due a royal princess.

"Who is the Fan Kuei speaking with Lo Ching?" Pai asked.

"His name is Big Cat," Tsu said, giving the Chinese translation of Jim Lyons's name. "He is the captain of a ship. He is trying to reach an agreement with your fath.."

Tsu looked around quickly to ensure that no one had overheard her slip of the tongue. "with Lo Ching," she concluded.

"What type of an agreement?"

"A trade agreement," Tsu replied.

"I would know more about this, Big Cat." Pai said.

"No," Tsu said. "Already I have told you too much."

"I would know more about him," Pai said again, a bit more forcefully than before.

"Please, Exalted One, I beg of you to show caution."

"I ask only that you report to me what you hear," Pai said. "You need not question anyone if you fear to do so."

"I fear only for you," Tsu said. "But I will do as you ask."

Pai looked back toward the American as Tsu hurried off. She shielded her curiosity by holding up a bowl and snapping her chopsticks open and closed in front of her face, so that he couldn't see that she was looking at him. Had he seen her, he would surely be looking at her, because even though in disguise, Pai was still, clearly, the most beautiful woman at the table. Her lashes were long and black and as graceful as palm fronds. Her nails and eyelids were colored light blue to match the cheongsam she wore, and her hair was rolled and held in place with ivory combs.

Tsu walked to the far end of the table, near the American and Lo Ching, then she stopped and looked back toward Pai. Pai, impatiently, motioned her on, and Tsu sighed. Pai was a headstrong girl, and had been so since she was a child. Tsu had been Pai's handmaiden since Pai was born, and though they got on well, it was at times like this that Tsu wished she could speak to her on an equal footing, for Pai's request was, indeed dangerous, and Tsu didn't know what to do about it.

"You may make your best deal with the merchants for whatever cargo you have," Lo Ching was saying. "But remember always that I shall receive five percent as a tax."

"But isn't five percent a little steep, Your Excellency?"

Captain Lyons replied, "In some provinces, I am told, the levy is but two percent."

"Two percent honestly taken, and ten percent dishonestly taken," Lo Ching said. He smiled. "I am aware that some of the province chiefs have in their employ robbers and brigands whom they unleash on many an unsuspecting ship. Are you not aware of such a thing?"

Captain Lyons laughed. "I have heard of such a thing, yes."

"Here, you need not worry. Here, I will take an honest five percent, and your ship may come and go unmolested. It is an honorable way of doing business, do you not—Tsu, why do you hang around here so? Why are you not with Pai?" Lo Ching suddenly said, interrupting his conversation.

Tsu dropped to her knees, then bowed her head so that her forehead touched the floor. "Forgive me, Your Excellency," she said. "My mistress has sent me down here to observe the party so that I may tell her of it.".

"It is not for her to know of such things," Lo Ching said. He and Tsu were speaking in Cantonese, so Captain Lyons was unaware of what was going on. He drank his rice wine and looked around the table as Lo Ching and the woman spoke, and that was when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. He almost choked on his wine so striking was she. The girl knew she had been seen, because for a moment her eyes—her large, almond-shaped, dark brown eyes—held his. Then the longed-lashed lids closed over them, and she looked down in embarrassment.

"Lo Ching," Captain Lyons said after the servant girl left, "who is that beautiful creature at the other end of the table?"

But as Lo Ching leaned over, the girl abruptly stood up and left, so that he saw only her back.

"She is the daughter of one of the merchants," Lo Ching said. "I did not see her, but then I do not know all the girls."

"She was exquisitely lovely," Captain Lyons said.

Lo Ching smiled broadly. "Do not lose your heart to a merchant's daughter, Captain, or her father will surely take advantage of you in your trading. Better to satisfy your needs with the courtesans who are available for such pursuits, and leave the merchant daughters to be married off to merchant sons."

"Perhaps you are right, Lo Ching," Captain Lyons said. "But uncommon beauty should be admired when one encounters it."

"Then let us admire more such beauty," Lo Ching said. "I will bring on the dancing girls." He clapped his hands and uttered a sharp command. The reed flutes and cymbals began to play, and four young girls, slender as willows and graceful as fawns, came on to perform for the guests. There were, as Lo Ching promised, beautiful young girls with willowy limbs and wasp waists, beautifully displayed by their silk costumes, and they writhed their hips and moved their hands and looked at Captain Lyons with smoldering, seductive eyes.

Captain Lyons found the dance delightful, and the sensuality of it began to move him, for he had been several weeks at sea without the sight of a woman. But then, as he almost forgot the merchant's daughter, he saw her once again, standing behind a large, potted fern. He turned to look at her, but she jumped quickly behind the large vase. A moment later he saw her again, this time near a rose bush. Again she jumped back to avoid his direct gaze, and then Captain Lyons became intrigued, for it was obvious that this delightful creature was playing some sort of game with him.

The dancing girls left, to be replaced by a magician who swallowed fire, then by one who juggled knives. Finally, when the entertainment was concluded and Captain Lyons could excuse himself without being rude, he asked for permission to examine Lo Ching's garden.

"Yes, walk through the garden," Lo Ching said. "Enjoy it, for it was designed for just such a purpose. And when you return, I shall have the consent of all these merchants to issue a trade agreement."

"You are most kind," Captain Lyons said. He stood, feeling grateful for the opportunity to walk around and work the kinks out of his legs, which were cramped from sitting cross-legged on the ground. The garden had arrested his attention when he arrived for it was beautiful indeed, but it wasn't only the rose bush he intended to see. Captain Lyons hoped to be able to find the beautiful girl who had been playing her coquettish game with him.

Pai had not seen him leave, and when she changed positions in the garden to find a new spot from which to spy on the American, she was surprised to see that he was no longer at the table. She looked for a long time and didn't see him anywhere. Then she moved to a better vantage point, and from there she searched for him again, but still she couldn't see him. Finally she moved out of hiding altogether and looked closely at everyone at the party, but the American sea captain was gone! How could this be? The party was in his honor. Surely he could not afford to be so rude as to leave before the party was over. And yet, clearly, he was not here.

"Ah, there you are!" a voice said, and Pai gasped and looked around to see the American captain standing right behind her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, then she put her hand to her mouth, for with that sentence she had told him she could speak English. She had hoped to keep that skill a secret.

"Well, so you speak English," Captain Lyons said. "I couldn't hope for better luck."

"It will do you no good that I speak English," Pai said. "For I've no intention of speaking to you."

"Oh? And why not?"

Pai looked over her shoulder to make certain that she couldn't be seen by anyone who might know her. Then, to be doubly safe, she began walking through the garden toward the golden pagoda, which stood at the far end and overlooked the wide river tidal basin leading to the sea.

"I have no interest in talking to you," Pai said.

Lyons smiled. "You have no interest, you say, and yet I have caught you playing your flirtatious game with me."

"I ... I was curious, that's all," Pai said.

Lyons fell into easy step with her as they walked. He breathed the scent of her—a clean, delicate scent with a touch of something intriguing. No, more than intriguing, he thought. It was maddening.

"What is your name?" Lyons asked.

"Pai."

"Pai," he said. "Aye, and I'd bet you're as sweet as apple pie, too. I've never seen a woman more lovely than you."

Pai, who had spent her entire life sheltered from the world, had not yet learned the game of feigning disdain for a man's compliments, and Lyon's compliments, which were earnestly given, were just as earnestly received.

"Could that be true?" she asked. "In all your travels about the world you have seem none prettier than I?"

"None, girl, and I'll swear to that."

"Have you no wife in New England?"

Lyons laughed. I'm not from New England, girl. I'm from San Francisco. That's in California. And to answer your question, no, I have no wife in California. Nor do I have a sweetheart, and, surely, if I did, the sight of you would be enough to make me forget her."

"Would you like to see the pagoda?" Pai suddenly asked.

"The pagoda?" Lyons replied, surprised by the sudden offer.

"Yes. It is very beautiful, is it not? It is called the golden pagoda, because there is much gold used in its construction. You like gold, do you not? All Fan Kuei like gold."

"Yes, I like gold," Lyons replied. "But my eyes are so dazzled by your beauty that I can't see the gold." Pai stopped and looked at him with an expression of confusion on her face. Could he really mean such a thing? She knew how highly all Fan Kuei prized gold, and yet, here, before such an abundance of gold, the American captain still looked at her. He must really think I am beautiful, she thought, and such a thought warmed her.

Then, suddenly and without warning, Captain Big Cat put his arms around her and pulled her to him, crushing her lips against his. His arms wound around her tightly, pulling her body against his. At first she struggled against him, out of surprise and fear. She had never been kissed, nor had she seen anyone kissed, and she was bewildered by it. But the harder she struggled the more determined he became to hold her until finally she abandoned the struggle and let herself go limp in his arms.

Then a strange thing began to happen. The surprise changed to surrender; the fear, to curiosity and then to a tingling warmth. A pleasure, sweet and forbidden, began to overtake her. Big Cat's lips opened on hers and his tongue pushed into her mouth. It was shocking and thrilling at the same time, and involuntarily a moan of passion began in her throat. He blood felt as if it had changed to hot tea, and her body was warmed with a heat she had never before experienced. The kiss went on, longer than she had ever imagined such a thing could last, and her head grew so light that she abandoned all thought save this pleasure. Finally the Captain broke off the kiss, and Pai felt as limp as a noodle.

"What?" Pai asked, barely able to speak. "What was that? What did you do?"

Lyons laughed. "It's obvious what I did," he said. "I kissed you. Don't tell me you have never been kissed before."

"She does not even know the meaning of the word," another woman's voice said.

"Tsui" Pai said. Then, in a sharp Cantonese, she went on. "What are you doing? Are you spying on me?"

"What is this?" Lyons asked, clearly puzzled by the sudden appearance of yet another Chinese woman who spoke English. He had been told that, except for royalty and certain merchants, he would find few English speaking Chinese, and here, in the space of a moment, he had encountered two beautiful women, both of whom spoke English.

"Captain, please allow Pai to return now before her father sees you. It would be trouble for her."

"Oh, so I'm good enough for a merchant to trade with, but I'm not good enough for his daughter, is that it?"

"You don't understand," Tsu said..

"Tsu, don't tell him," Pai warned in Cantonese.

"I'm sorry, Exalted One. For your own safety I must tell him," Tsu replied. She looked at Captain Lyons and cleared her throat. "Pai is the daughter of Lo Ching."

"What?" Lyons asked. The expression on his face showed that he clearly didn't believe Tsu. "I thought a Manchu princess was never seen in public—not by anyone, Chinese or Fan Kuei."

"That is correct," Tsu said. "Pai has disobeyed her father by attending the party. She is disguised as a merchant's daughter so that even her own father will not know she has come. But even now he grows anxious to resume his talk with you, and he is searching the garden for you."

"Oh!" Pai said. She put her hand to her mouth. "Tsu, he must not find us," she said, speaking in English.

"Go, quickly," Tsu said. "Use the gardener's path. Lo Ching will not see you."

Pai looked at Lyons for a long moment, then turned and darted between two flowering bushes. Lyons watched her and a moment later caught a flash of blue before she disappeared into the bushes at the far end of the garden.

"Ah, so you are here at the golden pagoda!" Lo Ching said, arriving then. He saw Tsu, and a puzzled expression crossed his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked in sharp Cantonese. "I thought I told you to see my daughter?"

"Pai asked for a fragrant bouquet," Tsu said, reaching up and snapping off some nearby blooms. "I was gathering the flowers when Captain Big Cat asked me about the golden pagoda."

Tsu had answered in English. It was a smart move, Lyons realized, because it gave him the opportunity to back up her story.

"That is true, Excellency," Lyons said quickly. "I hope I have not caused the lady any trouble. I would not want her punished on my account."

Lo Ching smiled. "You have heard of the cruelty of Chinese masters, no doubt," he said. "But Tsu is the handmaiden of my daughter, Pai, and I cannot punish her without incurring the anger of my daughter. Therefore, I shall let her go with a warning this time."

"I am most grateful," Tsu said, now bowing and speaking in Cantonese again. She had switched Lo Ching from Cantonese to English and back again so easily that he did not realize that Tsu had set up her own alibi right before him. He took Lyons by the elbow and led him to the golden pagoda, proudly extolling its beauty and value.

Lyons looked at the pagoda, fascinated by the panels and scrolls of gold, but his mind wasn't on the treasure before him. His mind was on the beautiful and mysterious girl he had just met. Could she actually be Lo Ching's daughter?

Lyons looked back toward the main house. There with yellow light spilling out from behind her and illuminated by a silver moonbeam Pai stood on a balcony, looking out over the garden. The dazzling beauty of the pagoda paled before such a sight. Lyons knew that, no matter what the risk or the penalty, he would have to see Pai again.

# Chapter 2

Captain Jim Lyons sat up straight as the longboat bore him back to the _Thunderbolt_. Ordinarily he would have taken this opportunity to examine the ship as he approached, for she was so lean and graceful of line that he enjoyed looking at her from all angles. But on this trip out to her his thoughts, and even his gaze, were on the walled city of Canton, for there dwelt the girl, Pai.

Jim couldn't actually see Lo Ching's palace, but he could see the roof of the golden pagoda and he stared at it as if it symbolized the girl.

"Cap'n, we're cornin' abeam, Sir," the bosun said.

The bosun's pronouncement surprised Jim, for he had been so immersed in his thoughts of the girl that he didn't realize how close they were to the ship.

"Very good, Clark," Jim said. He forced his eyes away from the golden pagoda, and cleared his mind of the girl. After all it would not do for any of his men to even suspect that he had been so taken with a girl. It would be bad for discipline. "Call for the ladder."

"Ahoy on deck!" Clark called. "Drop the cap'n's ladder!"

A rope ladder whistled down and splashed in the water. The boat drifted toward the ship as Clark held out an oar to prevent their bumping. Jim grabbed hold of the ladder and started climbing.

"Attention on deck," someone called. As Jim set foot on deck, his young cabin boy, Michael Kelly, stood by, ready to take the formal coat and return it to the master's cabin. Michael was a large-boned boy who looked older than his twelve years. He was redheaded, freckled-faced, and blue-eyed.

"Ah, good boy," Jim said, slipping out of the coat. "The blasted individual who designed this contraption should be forced to wear it for eight hours." Jim put his arms up over his head, then held them straight out to each side and rotated them quickly, luxuriating in the freedom of motion. "Of course, one good thing about it is how good you feel when you take the thing off," he added with a good-natured laugh.

"Will you be taking your pipe, Cap'n?" Michael asked, folding the captain's coat neatly across his arm.

"Aye, lad," Jim replied. "Bring it to me on the poop."

"Aye-aye, Sir," Michael said, and he turned and hurried to the captain's cabin.

Jim walked back along the deck of the ship toward the stem. The _Thunderbolt_ was as long as most ships, but she was much narrower in the beam and had a V-shaped keel (the better to cut through the water), so she had only one-half the cargo-carrying capacity. This sacrifice she made for speed, and it paid off by cutting the travel time in half. The size of the crew was considerably reduced also: whereas most merchant ships had forty or more seamen and half a dozen officers, the _Thunderbolt_ had only twelve seamen and eight officers. One of the officers was Lieutenant Harry Whitehead, who had the watch now.

* * *

Whitehead was leaning against the taffrail, and he straightened up respectfully when Jim approached. "Evening, Cap'n," Whitehead spoke.

"Good evening, Mister' Whitehead," Jim replied. "All quiet?"

"Aye, Sir. We've let the mid watch go ashore to visit with the whores."

"Maybe they'll have a bit more life in them if they aren't so randy," Jim suggested.

"Aye, maybe so," Whitehead said, grinning. "Tell me about the party, Cap'n."

"The party? There's nothing to tell," Jim said, purposely saying nothing about Pai. "There were a lot of Chinese merchants and dignitaries there." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I can tell you this, though. It's going to be at least three months before we have all the contracts signed. We have to close the deal with Lo Ching and his merchants, then we have to go up river to negotiate with each district chief. It makes me wonder if it's all worth it."

"It's worth it, Cap'n, and you know it," Whitehead said. "We'll be the first clipper with regular service to San Francisco . . . We can comer the market on tea, silk, spices . . . Why the _Thunderbolt_ will pay for herself on the first voyage, and then it's all profit."

"I keep telling myself that, Mister Whitehead," Jim said. "It's what makes me go on. Ah, Michael, you're a good lad," he added as the cabin boy approached with the pipe already filled with tobacco.

Jim lit up, then looked out across the tidal basin toward the city. "You know how many people live on the other side of that wall?" he asked.

"No, Sir."

"Nearly two million," Jim said. 'Ten such cities would make up the whole of the United States population." He sighed. "I can't believe it's good for humans to be crowded together so."

"They aren't humaps, Cap'n—they're Chinese," Whitehead said.

"Is that so?" Jim asked. He took a puff from his pipe and looked at Whitehead over the cloud of smoke that issued from his action. "The Chinese were printing with movable type when our ancestors were making marks on the walls of caves," he said. "It was the Chinese who developed gun powder, glass-making, weaving—shall I go on?"

"I'll admit they are clever, but—"

"It might interest you to know that, likewise, the average Chinese considers us somewhat less than human," Jim said, interrupting Whitehead's comment.

"I didn't really mean anything by it, Cap'n," Whitehead said. "I was just making an observation."

"Don't judge so quickly," Jim said. "Especially as this tremendous profit you spoke of a moment ago depends upon our maintaining a good relationship with them."

"Aye, Sir," Whitehead said.

Jim turned then and looked back toward the city. He had been a bit overly sensitive to Whitehead's casual remark, but it was important to nip in the bud any prejudice that might jeopordize the delicate negotiations that were going on.

Then again, he asked himself, could it be that he was sensitive because he had been so taken with Pai, because he felt that Whitehead, by casting aspersions on the Chinese race, was casting dispersions on Pai?

"I've been looking' at that building over there, Cap'n," Whitehead said, changing the subject and thus getting out from under Jim's ire. "Have you noticed it? I swear if it doesn't look to be pure gold."

Jim looked in the direction Whitehead was pointing and he smiled. "It's pure gold leaf, and that's for sure," he said. He took out his gold watch and looked at it. "It's as pure gold as this watch. It's the golden pagoda of Lo Ching."

"Lo Ching? The fella you have to negotiate with?"

"None other," Jim said. "And you have a good eye, Mr. Whitehead, for the golden pagoda is indeed a beautiful place."

Jim looked at the watch in his hand. "Mr. Whitehead," he said. "'Tis a minute of the hour."

"Sound the bells," Whitehead replied.

The sailor, who was dressed in white duck trousers and a broad blue-and-white striped shirt, walked over to a small brass bell which hung from an arm on the foremast. He took hold of the leather cord while he counted off the final seconds to himself, then struck it—eight times in a series of four, two rings each.

The notes carried clarion throughout the ship, and everywhere the sailors heard it. For those on watch and about to be relieved, there was a cheery sound to the bells. And there was a homey sound to the bells as well, for, here, in a strange bay in a strange country on the other side of the world, the familiar routine told the sailors, "No matter what, this ship is still here and it is still your home."

"Eight bells," Jim said. "It will be dark soon. Inform the new watch to be especially diligent I've heard tales of cutthroats and brigands who board ships in Canton Harbor."

"Aye, Cap'n, and the men have heard those selfsame tales," Whitehead said. "'Twill be no problem inspiring them to vigilance, I assure you."

"Good," Jim said. He stretched and yawned. "The food and the rice wine have made me drowsy. I think perhaps I'll turn in now. It may be that I'll be needed during the night."

"G'night, Cap'n," Whitehead called after Jim as he left the poop to return to the master's cabin.

Michael was in Jim's cabin when Jim stepped inside. Michael was industriously polishing the brass fittings of the cabin so that they sparkled and shined like gold.

"You've got the cabin looking fit enough for an admiral," Jim teased. "One of these days I'll come in here to find the shine polished away."

"Oh, can that happen?" Michael asked in concern, jerking his polishing cloth away from one of the brass fittings.

"No, lad, that can't happen," Jim said, laughing. "I was funning with you."

"Good," Michael said. He laughed too. "But you had me worried, Cap'n."

"I'm going to grab a little sleep now," Jim said. "Be a good lad and stay out of my cabin for a while."

"Aye, Cap'n," Michael said, grabbing up his polish and his cleaning rags. "Will you be taking supper?"

"Supper?" Jim said, rubbing his stomach. "Lad, after the food I've eaten today, I may never eat again," he said.

Michael laughed appreciatively at his captain's joke, then stepped outside and closed the door. With the louvers turned on the door and the vents, there was a fresh breeze coming through the cabin, but the late sun was already blotted out so that it was quite dark in the cabin.

Jim lay back on his bunk with his hand behind his head and stared at the gathering shadows. He thought of the girl Pai. Why had she moved him so? He had seen beautiful women all over the world. He had seen cool, blonde loveliness in England and hot-blooded beauty in Spain. There had been quiet, sensuous women and brazen hussies who sold their charms for a price. Jim had experienced them all, so he was not a man enraptured by his first contact with beauty. There was something about Pai which stirred him more than he had thought possible.

Jim had spent most of his life at sea. He had begun at the age of fifteen as an apprentice seaman, and he'd worked his way up. He had known from the beginning that the route to promotion lay in education, so half of all his earned money he had spent on books. He had studied the sea, but other subjects as well, like grammar and math and history. The older sailors had taken a liking to the studious young man, and they had helped him in his instruction. The seamanship he had acquired from books was augmented by the wisdom of these sailors, who passed on to him the very special kinds of knowledge that couldn't be found in books, but was discovered, refined, and passed down from sailor to sailor through all the centuries of wind- ship sailing.

After eight years of diligent study and work before the mast, Jim took the exams for an officer's appointment and got a berth on a merchant ship. Later he moved to a clipper ship.

Slamming across the waves in the reckless quest for speed, speed, and more speed, clippers were beautiful ships—long, thin, sharp-pointed—with as many as five masts crowded with sail on every inch. The ships, besides having a reduced cargo space, were hardly sturdy in their construction, and some had been known to break up in only moderately heavy seas. Also, they carried so much sail that yardarms, and sometimes even masts, snapped under the pressure.

But it wasn't only the equipment that snapped under pressure. Men buckled as well. The clipper captains were under orders from the owners to make even faster and faster passages, and they drove their crews relentlessly.

Jim learned from firsthand experience what the pressure from a mad pursuit of speed could do to a crew, and he refused to accept command of a clipper until he had put away enough money to buy one of his own. The _Thunderbolt_ was his ship, from keel to sky's and from jib to taffrail. Of course, he did owe money on it, but, as Whitehead had pointed out, the profit from this one voyage would pay off that note, and then the _Thunderbolt_ would be free and clear.

Jim Lyons was the type of captain men enjoyed sailing for. He never asked more of anyone than he was willing to do himself. He often spelled the officers on watch, and frequently sailors aloft in high winds were surprised to see that the man fisting down canvas next to them was none other than their captain.

Jim didn't pass the pressure on to his men, because he absorbed it all himself. As a result he had no social life and often would take a quiet room somewhere and hole up with several bottles of whiskey during his stays ashore. He worried sometimes that he might be drinking too heavily, but he had always been able to turn it off while at sea, and so far he had taken no more than his daily rum ration while underway.

But he was going to spend three months in China. Three months before they would weigh anchor and set sail for San Francisco with her hatches full of tea, spices, and silk. During these three months, he told himself, he would allow himself a little more to drink, though, of course, he would not drink as much as he did ashore in America. Perhaps he should drink more, though. Perhaps, if he drank, he could forget Pai. If she really was the daughter of Lo Ching, she would be nothing but trouble for him. He sighed, punched up the seabag he was using as a pillow and turned over on his side to face the wall. He had to get some sleep. He had to force the girl out of his mind. He was foolish to think of her, anyway. He would never see her again. He knew that for a fact.

From the highest balcony of the Pure Palace, as Lo Ching's residence was called, one could look down toward the bay and, there, see all the Fan Kuei ships at anchor. One of the ships one could see was the _Thunderbolt_.

Pai had gone to the balcony with the telescope her father had given her, and there she had watched Captain Big Cat return to his ship. She saw him walk back to the rear of the ship and speak with another sailor and smoke his pipe. It was a strange pipe, not long, slender, and graceful like the pipes the Chinese used, but short and fat and curved so that the bowl of the pipe seemed to come from his chin. Pai laughed when she saw him light it.

She wished she could hear what they were talking about, for then it would give her a tremendous sense of omnipotence to be able to see and hear without being seen or heard. Once Captain Big Cat looked back toward her, and for an instant she was frightened that he had seen her, and she gasped and jerked her eye away from the telescope. Then, seeing him in his proper perspective—a tiny figure upon a distant deck—she knew that he had not seen her at all but had just pointed her way coincidentally.

After a short tune Captain Big Cat went into a cabin on the ship, and she couldn't see him anymore. But it was growing so dark that she knew she wouldn't be able to see him much longer anyway, so she took the telescope down and returned to her room. Tsu was there, waiting for her.

"What were you looking at through the telescope?" Tsu asked.

"It is not for me, a princess, to answer a handmaiden," Pai replied.

"Nor is it for a princess to be kissing an outsider," Tsu said. "Especially if that outsider is a Fan Kuei."

"Tsu, do many kiss?" Pai asked.

"You shouldn't be talking about it."

"But I want to know."

"It is not good for you.to know."

"But it was so . . ." Pai put her fingers to her lips, and as she did she recaptured some of the warmth she had felt during the kiss. "It was so wonderful," she went on. "I felt as if a thousand butterfly wings were fluttering at my lips, and in my chest and my stomach, and in my . . ." She suddenly stopped and blushed and looked at Tsu. "I don't understand," she said. "Why would I feel so, so strangely here?" She placed her hand at the junction of her legs; even as she did so, as she recalled the moment, she felt the sensation again.

"That is because you are a woman," Tsu said. Tsu sighed. "Perhaps it is time for you to understand what being a woman means."

"I know what being a woman means," Pai said. "I have studied such things with my tutors. I know how children are born."

"Then why did you ask me such a question?" Tsu asked.

"Oh," Pai said. "Oh," she blushed again. "Tsu, I have been told by my teacher how children are born, but I did not know that one had such ... such feelings during such a time. Does this mean I am now ready to have a baby?"

"You could have a baby now, but you should not," Tsu said. "You should have a baby only when Lo Ching has selected a suitable husband for you. To have a baby before then would be a great dishonor."

"But what if I do not feel this way with the husband my father chooses for me?" Pai wanted to know.

"I think you will find that such feelings need not be reserved for one man," Tsu said.

"Tsu, have you ever?" Pai asked.

"Pai, you shouldn't ask such a question," Tsu said. "Please, tell me."

Tsu smiled, then crossed the room to look through the door into the hallway. When she was certain no one was there to overhear, she came back and sat on Pai's bed. "Yes," she said.

"Oh, what is it like?"

"It is one thousand, thousand times better than the feeling you get when you kiss."

"Oh," Pai said, hugging herself. "How can one stand such exquisite sensation?"

"But, such a thing is wrong," Tsu said quickly. "And it was wrong of me to tell you."

"But who was it?" Pai asked.

"No," Tsu said. "This I cannot tell you, and I will not tell you."

"I order you to tell me," Pai said.

"I am sorry, Pai. You may order me to tell you, you may even order that I be given fifty days and fifty nights of torture, but I will not tell you."

Pai sighed. "Very well, do not tell me," Pai'said, frowning in disappointment. Then she smiled. "X know. We can exchange secrets. Til tell you who when I do it the first time, then you can tell me."

"No!" Tsu said. "Please, Princess, you must not entertain thoughts of doing such a thing until your father has selected your husband. You do not know the dangers of such action."

"Danger? How can there be danger to something which must feel so wonderful?" Pai asked. She hugged herself again. "Oh, one thousand, thousand times better than a kiss. How wonderful it would be to do such a thing with the American captain!"

"Pai, do so and Big Cat will be killed. Then Lo Ching's rage will be such that I will be killed as well for allowing it, and perhaps even you would be killed. Please, I beg of you. Do not entertain such thoughts."

"You have always been a woman of great fear," Pai said. "But I have no fear. I would like to . . . What is this thing called, this thing that men and women do to have babies?"

"It is called drinking at the fountain of love," Tsu said.

"Drinking at the fountain of love. Yes, that is a good name for it," Pai said. She got out of bed and walked over to the window to look out toward the bay. Darkness had fallen over tb» bay, and along the Mne of junks the small dim lights flickered as the peasants went about their endless work. Farther out in the bay, holding herself aloof from the junks and other vessels, the _Thunderbolt_ rocked, now no more than a long dark shadow upon the water. Red and green mantled lights hung at pylons in a position to show harbor pilots that she was at anchor. Pai looked at the ship. "I would like to drink at the fountain of love with Captain Big Cat," she said.

# Chapter 3

It was seven bells of the dogwatch, five thirty A.M. Captain Jim Lyons stood on the deck of the _Thunderbolt_ and sipped hot tea. He had been up for half an hour. It was dark when he first came on deck, but now, in the east, beyond the city, the first pink fingers of dawn began reaching up from the hills of China. The tile roofs of the city caught the early morning sunglow and shined blood red—all except for those of the golden pagoda, and its gold leaf sparkled in brilliant yellow even in the pale light.

There were several smells assailing Jim's nostrils, the most predominant of which was that of dried fish and rotting vegetables. Mingled with these smells though, were the occasional fragrances of jasmine, burning incense, and freshly baked bread, along with the crisp odor of fried meats.

A long narrow boat with a peculiarly high prow and stem moved by slowly, propelled by the early morning breeze against its large square sail. It was being steered by a man who stood stoically at a long tiller post. He was wearing only a piece of cloth tied around his loins. It was a fishing junk, and three of the crew were handling the net. Two of the net handlers were completely naked, but they worked seemingly totally unconcerned about their condition. An old woman squatted at mid-deck, tending to a charcoal fire, stirring something with long chopsticks in a small round-bottomed pan.

The boat passed less than fifty feet astern of the _Thunderbolt_ , and not once did the Chinese crew look up. at the great clipper ship. Jim watched them as they passed by, wondering what their life was like. When they were fully across his stem, he turned back to look at his own ship. One of the sailors on watch was extinguishing the mantled lights, while two others brought buckets and holystones to the deck. He had a smart and well-disciplined crew; when he talked to other captains and discovered the troubles they had with their men, he wondered how he could have been so lucky as to draw such fine men. What Jim had not yet discovered was that it was his way of treating the sailors—like free men rather than slaves—that had won him the respect and loyalty of all who served with him. His operation was a clear-cut example of leading by inspiration rather than harsh discipline.

Michael Kelly, the cabin boy, brought a plate to the poop, and after spreading a cloth on the capstan, he laid out the plate and eating utensils. "Your breakfast, Cap'n," he said.

"Ah, you're a good lad, Michael," Jim said, smiling at the young man's industriousness. "You'll make a fine ship's officer someday."

"Beggin' the cap'n's pardon," Michael hedged, "but I've decided against ship life."

"What? You've decided against it, you say?" Jim asked, holding the fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I thought this was what you wanted more than anything else."

"I thought to give it a tty, Sir," Michael said. "And Fm grateful to you for taking me on. But I find a ship too confining for me. I don't want to be tied down to any one place. I want to move around more'

"Confining is it?" Jim replied. "Now, how could that be? In the last two months you've seen the Sandwich Islands, and China."

"It's not that, Cap'n," Michael said. "The ship goes a lot of places, and I've got a wanderlust and therefore can appreciate that. But I want to be free to move around under my own power. I want to climb mountains and cross streams and go into areas where no one has ever been, but I want to do it on horseback."

"Aye, I can appreciate that, lad," Jim said. "And if you'll be wantin' your discharge papers when we return to California, I'll give them to you."

"Thank you, Captain," Michael said. "I'll appreciate that"

Jim smiled broadly. "In the meantime, lad, enjoy what you can of the exotic Orient. 'Tis not a place you'll be likely to see if your mode of travel be horseback," he said.

"Aye, Cap'n. I'm to go ashore with the mid watch," Michael said.

"Mind, you be careful with the women and don't mess up your life this early by cornin' down with the pox," Jim teased.

"Cap'n, you needn't remind me of that," Michael said, smiling broadly at Jim's joke.

"Mr. Kelly," the officer on watch called. "Would you see to the ringing of eight bells?"

"Aye-aye, Sir," Michael replied, and he hastened to do the officer's bidding.

By eight o'clock Jim was ashore ready to go around the city and up the river into the hills in search of other merchants with whom he could conclude his trade agreements. Lo Ching furnished him with horses for himself and for the bartering goods he would be carrying. The news that a wealthy Fan Kuei would be leading a rich caravan into the hills was certain to lure out bandits, and Lo Ching mentioned that fact to Jim.

"Perhaps I had better send word back to the ship for two armed men to accompany me," Jim suggested.

"Two armed men against so many bandits?" Lo Ching said. He shook his head slowly. "No, I am afraid they would be of no help to you."

"Then I will take my chances," Jim said. "I must conclude these agreements."

Lo Ching smiled. "Perhaps I may be of assistance to you," He suggested. "I will send body guards with you."

"You will? Your excellency, that is very nice of you. You have my gratitude for providing me with a military escort."

Lo Ching wagged his finger back and forth slowly. "No, no, my young American friend. It is not a military escort I give you, but something much better."

"Much better? What could be better than a military escort?" Jim asked, confused by Lo dung's words.

Lo Ching spoke to a servant in his own language, and a moment later two old men shuffled toward them. Both were dressed in saffron robes, and both held their arms folded before them with their hands thrust up the opposite sleeves. Neither looked directly at Lo Ching, but stared at the marble floor instead.

"These men will go with you," Lo Ching said.

Jim started to laugh, then he saw that Lo Ching was not making a joke, and he looked at the Chinese Manchu prince in confusion. "These two men are to be my body guards?" he asked.

"Yes," Lo Ching said.

Jim was clearly disturbed. Lo Ching obviously thought these two men were up to the task he was giving them, and for Jim to show anything less than gratitude would be offensive to Lo Ching. Jim certainly did not want to offend Lo Ching. On the, other hand, if there were bandits in the hills, he did not wish to place his goods—indeed, his own life—in the charge of these two old men.

"Excellency, I thank you for your concern," Jim finally said. "But I feel that it is only fitting that I provide for my own defense. If you will allow me I will send for two of my men and arm them with firearms. Firearms will be enough to ward off the hill bandits." Lo Ching laughed. "You do not understand, do you, Captain Big Cat. You think the two old men you see before you are mere mortals."

"Of course," Jim said. "What else would they be? Though I am certain they are most capable, or you would not have made such a generous offer as allowing me to use them."

Lo Ching laughed again. "They are priests of Shan Tal."

"Priests?" Jim said. "These men are priests? Do you mean the bandits won't attack priests?"

"They dare not attack these priests," Lo Ching said. He looked at the priests, and so did Jim. Neither priest had moved since arriving. Both stood silently, with their heads bowed and their arms folded and tucked into their sleeves. "Ah, I can see you are still confused," Lo Ching said. "Perhaps a demonstration." He spoke in quick, authoritative Cantonese to a man standing nearby. The man answered with a bow and disappeared. A moment later he returned with thirty of Lo Ching's soldiers. The soldiers were all carrying clubs. "Watch," he said.

Lo Ching gave a sharp command and the soldiers looked at each other with just a second's hesitation before they formed into a large circle, surrounding the two priests.

"Now, you will see," Lo Ching said. "I have ordered the soldiers to attack the two priests."

"You can't do that," Jim said. "The soldiers are thirty men, and they are armed. The priests are but two and they aren't—I was about to say they aren't armed, but look at them. I don't believe they are even aware of what is going on. Neither of them has even made a move."

As Jim had noted, the priests remained as if rooted to the same spot. Both had their hands thrust up their sleeves; both were looking at the ground with heavy lidded eyes, as if they were about to go to sleep.

Yet, when Jim looked toward the advancing soldiers, he saw the unmistakable look of fear in their eyes. The soldiers were afraid of the two men! How could that be?

Suddenly, eight of the soldiers rushed toward the two priests, yelling loudly as they did so. The eight men were rushing from behind the priests—four soldiers for each priest, running toward their backs, carrying their clubs low, ready to jab with them.

The two priests stood perfectly still until Jim was certain they were about to be taken down by the rushing soldiers. Then both men dropped to one knee, pivoted quickly to face their attackers. One of the priests grabbed the club of the first man to reach them and pulled him on through, while the other priest, with a well-aimed kick, dispatched the second man. The third and fourth were felled with two lightning blows of the hand—blows delivered so quickly and cleanly that Jim wasn't sure he had even seen them.

With the eight soldiers limping off, the two priests returned to their original position of respectful silence before Lo Ching.

The leader of the remaining soldiers conferred with the others for a moment, then the remaining twenty-two charged forward with fearsome guttural shouts. The priests stood quiet and motionless until the last possible second, then their hands came out of the sleeves and they began slashing away at the soldiers. The priests' movements were as graceful as the most intricate ballet, and within seconds all the soldiers were either lying on the floor, or limping away.

"I asked the priests to show mercy and compassion for the soldiers," Lo Ching explained. "I explained that this was to be a demonstration to put to rest your fears over their ability to protect you."

"You asked the priests to take it easy on the soldiers?" Jim asked. "Did you ask the soldiers to take it easy on the priests?"

"I told the soldiers to kill the priests if they could," Lo Ching said.

Jim walked closer to the two priests. They were looking passively at the marble floor. "Truly, I have never before seen such men as these," he said.

"They were trained from childhood in the Shan Tal Temple," Lo Ching said. 'It is a great honor: few are accepted. Fewer still survive the training, but once the training is completed, there is no one who is the match for a priest or priestess of Shan Tal."

"Priestess? You mean there are women who can fight this well?"

"Yes," Lo Ching said. "Now, do you still wish to take your armed men from the ship?"

"No," Jim said, visibly impressed by the demonstration put on by the priests. "I know I will be safe with two such magnificent guards."

Lo Ching laughed, then clapped his hands and ordered his men to begin to load the pack animals.

"Go," Lo Ching said. "Take a pleasant walk through the garden. Visit the golden pagoda and say a few words to your god and light joss sticks to Buddha that your journey may be safe. Rest in the shade of the trees and prepare yourself for the days ahead. All will be attended to here."

"You are most kind, Lo Ching," Jim said. With one parting look at the limping soldeirs and the two stoic priests, he accepted Lo Ching's invitation to stroll through the gardens.

The garden was the result of more than a century of careful work. Well-kept pathways of white marble chips were bordered on each side by perfectly manicured hedgerows. The hedges formed walls, arches, and even fragrant rooms. In addition to the hedgerows there were sculptured shrubs and bushes, flowering plants of every hue and design, and beautiful trees. A stream wound through the garden, passing under delicately arched bridges, breaking in song over polished white stones, and finally cascading down in a merry trill into a perfectly formed waterfall.

The entire garden seemed designed not only to reflect its own beauty but to enhance the beauty of the golden pagoda. As Jim approached the golden pagoda, he marveled again at the gold leaf covering which gave it such a luster.

The front doors of the pagoda were red with black trim. In fact, the entire pagoda was done in red, black, and gold.

Jim was looking at the magnificent structure when he heard someone calling him.

"Captain Big Cat!"

"Yes?"

"Captain, over here," the voice said, and he looked toward the voice to see Pai standing behind a hedgerow.

"Pai," Jim said, smiling broadly. "Well, what a pleasant surprise to see you here." He started toward her.

"No," she said sharply. "We cannot be seen together."

Jim smiled at her. "There is no one here now," he said.

"It is too dangerous here. Go into the pagoda."

Jim looked back toward the golden pagoda. He had wanted to look around inside anyway. "All right," he said.

"When you are there, go to the right of the sacred altar into the prayer chamber of the princess. There, we will have privacy."

Jim shifted his gaze back from the pagoda to the hedge and saw that Pai was already gone. "Pai?" he called. "Pai, are you here?"

Jim walked over to the hedge but the girl was definitely gone. He wondered how she could disappear so quickly, but he shrugged his shoulders because how she disappeared wasn't important. "What was important was whether or not she would be where she said she would be. Would she meet him in the princess's prayer room as she said?

There was only one way to find out, so Jim walked back toward the golden pagoda. He pushed the red doors open and stepped inside, then stopped and whistled softly under his breath. Never had he seen a place like this. The same color scheme he had noticed outside was carried inside as well. Only here the three colors gold, red, and black were carried out in leaf gold, red marble, and black onyx. Never had he seen anything as beautiful. It was not only beautiful, it was, he knew, representative of a fortune beyond his ability to comprehend.

Incense was burning inside the pagoda, and its thick, cloying smell made Jim's senses reel. It was almost as if he had left his world to go into another plane of existence. The outside world—the fetid odors of the docks, the ship, the ocean, even the United States—didn't exist at this moment. He moved quietly through the great hall of the pagoda until he reached the altar. There he saw the large gold statue of Buddha, sitting stoically with a large protuberant stomach and a navel filled with an enormous ruby.

Jim looked at the statue of Buddha. If there were some way to transport just this one statue to his ship, the gold alone would keep him in wealth for the rest of his life. He laughed quietly. It was all right to think such a thing, but he knew that if he so much as placed one hand on the Buddha's ruby, he would be dead before he could pull his hand away.

Jim heard a sound and he looked over to see a door opened just a crack. Through the crack he could see Pai, staring out at him. He smiled, looked around, then walked quickly to the door. When he reached the door it opened fully, and as soon as hq stepped through it, Pai closed it behind him.

"What is it?" Jim asked, smiling at her stealth.

Pai leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, then pulled his lips down to hers for a kiss. Jim, surprised by her boldness, recovered quickly, and returned her kiss with enthusiasm and ardor.

Pai felt the warmth spreading through her as he kissed her, and she gave in to it, letting her head swim and her body float. Kissing was a delightful thing, and never had she done anything which caused her to feel such pleasure.

But Tsu had told her that drinking at the fountain of love would be even more pleasurable, and now, as she kissed, Pai knew that was true, for she was driven on by strange, exciting, almost frightening sensations. Underlying the sensations was a yearning for more, for something else beyond this. Her body had been awakened and now needed to be satisfied.

Pai pulled at her lover, pulling him toward a mat on the floor until they were both lying on it, body to body. She was driven nearly insensible by the powerful yearnings within, and when she felt him removing her clothes, her need intensified with each article of clothing removed.

Finally Pai lay totally nude on the mat before Jim. Jim caught his breath at what he saw. Pai was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her golden skin shone over her swelling breasts and full thighs, and looked dark and mysterious where her perfect curves were half hidden in shadows. Her eyes had a strange, sexual look.

"My God, you are beautiful," Jim said, his tongue thick with passion. Hastily, he removed his own clothes as Pai watched. Then when his clothes were removed he came down to her and bent over her, trapping her mouth with his own. Pai felt a naked man for the first time in her life as she felt his manhood against her leg.

Jim's lips brushed across Pai's, then, strangely, they forced her lips open and his tongue thrust inside. The warmth she already felt exploded into a blazing heat, and for a moment the sensations so overwhelmed her that she thought she was going to pass out. One of his big hands covered a breast and gently caressed it, then moved further down. His hand was so hot that Pai looked down, fully expecting to see a red mark on her breast She saw only the hard little buttons of her nipples.

Jim's hands moved gently across her smooth golden skin, spreading fire wherever they went. Then he moved over her and his manhood moved from her leg until it was against the center of all her feeling. There was a delicious pressure, a longing for more, and then, quite unexpectedly, a moment of sharp pain.

The pain surprised Pai, for she had not expected it. She gasped, and her face contorted in confusion and fear for a moment. Was this thing she yearned for to be painful? But then, even as she thought of it, she felt a sudden return of the intense sensations she had experienced earlier. Now her whole body was dominated by it. This was the mysterious something more she had been yearning for.

Pai trembled with fire under his lovemaking, and she spread her legs wide as he thrust deeply into her. She gasped loudly—not with pain but with joy—and she scratched his bare back with her fingernails. Jim stifled her gasps by putting his mouth over hers with smothering kisses and a darting tongue. The tongue moved in and out of her mouth in perfect rhythm with that other part of him invading her body.

Then lightning struck Pai: once, twice, three times. She felt a burst of pleasure which, as Tsu said it would be, was one thousand, thousand times more intense than the pleasure of that first kiss. Never before had she experienced such a feeling, and she thought she would die from the pleasure of it.

Then, all at once, it was over for Jim. His body went rigid. A hissing, groaning sound escaped from his lips. And as pleasurable convulsions racked his body, Pai could feel them enter her own. His manhood strained inside her and then slowly slackened. But when he rolled off her, she still felt the hugeness of him. He lay to one side breathing heavily for a few moments. He spoke very quietly.

"Never have I known such a woman," he said. "Who are you, really?"

"I am Pai," she said.

"Then you really are Lo Ching's daughter?"

"Yes."

Jim raised up on his elbow and looked down at her. "I must see more of you," he said.

"Oh, yes," Pai agreed with a smile of contentment. "I want to see more of you, too."

"Then let's not hide it," Jim said. "Let me go to your father and ask to call upon you openly."

"No!" Pai said, and a sudden fear crossed her face. "Please," she said. "You do not understand! If my father thought you had even spoken to me, he would have you put to death."

"Lo Ching seems like a reasonable man," Jim said. "I can't believe he would do anything so unreasonable."

"To a Chinese Manchu, such a thing is reasonable," Pai explained. She put her fingers to his lips. "Promise me," she said. "We will see each other only in secrecy."

"But how?" Jim said. "We can't always count on chance meetings in the garden."

Pai smiled. "Tsu will make the arrangements," she said. "Now, you must dress quickly and return before my father sends someone to look for you. Do not forget me during your journey."

"Forget you?" Jim said. He laughed and turned his back to pick up his clothes. "How can I forget someone like you?" he asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he turned back toward her, only to find that she was gone.

"Pai?" he called quietly. He looked around the room and saw only the door he had entered. She couldn't have gone through that door, because he would have seen her. And yet, she was gone. How did that happen?

Jim shrugged his shoulders. She was a woman of mystery—of that there was no doubt. But she was also the most desirable creature he had ever met in his life. And whatever the risk, he intended to see her again.

# Chapter 4

In the village of Tsingyan the people get up before the sun. The women prepare breakfast and the children huddle around the charcoal pots in the early morning darkness, seeking some warmth.

The village lies in the Canton Valley of the Chin Ling Shan range of mountains on the banks of the Peh Kiang River. The river provides the village with its principal food product, fish, and the fishermen begin their work with the morning sun. Their flatboats glide effortlessly through the still water, and the reflection of the painted eyes on the boats glare back from the mirrored surface. The clacks of the wooden blocks the fishermen slap together to attract the fish roll across the water with a rhythmic, almost musical, quality.

Those villagers who don't fish work in the mountains, digging jade, and they begin their labors as soon as the sun bums away the misty shrouds the mountains wear at night. It was for the jade that Jim Lyons came to Tsingyan, and he bore a letter of introduction to Wu Cho, the great landowner and Manchu prince of the village..

Pin and Cao, the Shan Tal priests who had accompanied Jim to the village, had gone the entire way on foot, despite Jim's offer of a horse for each of them. At first, Jim had thought they would slow him down, but they moved in a constant, jogging lope, so that he had to urge the horse to a quicker stride on several occasions, just to keep up with them. He followed the jogging priests down a trail which turned into the main street of the little village. The street wound past merchant shops and small houses until it stopped at a large palatial mansion with many curving roofs and stories. The grounds were well tended, and a fountain splashed in a fish pond in front. Two armed men approached the party with a menacing look, then when they saw the priests, both stopped, dropped to one knee, and bowed their heads. Neither priest said a word (they had not spoken since Jim met them).

A third man approached. One of the kneeling guards spoke, and the third man ran back toward the house.

"Does anyone here speak English?" Jim asked.

The guards looked at him dumbly.

Jim swung off his horse and looked around. He saw farmers working their rice crop in a nearby fields. Two children walked down the dusty road nearby, looking with unbridled curiosity at the large blond Fan Kuei.

"This is great," Jim mumbled. "Lo Ching said I wouldn't have any problem with the language. I hope Wu Cho speaks English."

A moment later the runner reappeared, this time leading a man who could only be Wu Cho. The Manchu prince was dressed in the finest silks, and he was wearing the hat of a man of great wealth. His fingernails were exceptionally long and highly polished. He smiled pleasantly as he approached Jim and his small caravan. He spoke in Chinese.

"Oh, no," Jim said. "Don't you speak English either?"

Wu Cho spoke again, in a language which was equally unintelligible to Jim.

"He bids you welcome to his modest home," Pin, one of the priests said in perfect English.

Jim looked at the priest in surprise. It was the first sound he had heard either of them make.

"You speak English?"

"Yes, Master."

Jim smiled. "Well," he said. He smiled again and rubbed his hands briskly together. "Well, well, well, now we are getting somewhere. Tell him who I am." Pin said a few words, and Wu Cho smiled and bowed respectfully to Jim. Jim laughed and returned the bow.

"It is good that you returned the bow, Master," Pin said. "It shows your respect for his position. He asks if you will join him for food."

"Tell him we would be very pleased to eat with him," Jim said.

"Cao and I cannot eat with him," Pin said.

"You can't? Why not?"

"It is forbidden," Pin said without going into any further explanation.

"That doesn't make sense," Jim said in obvious exasperation. "If you aren't there, too, how will I know what he is saying?"

"I will be there, Master. I cannot eat."

"If he won't let you eat, then I won't eat, either," Jim said.

"Please, Master," Pin said. "Wu Cho does not forbid us to eat. It is our order as priests. We cannot eat with anyone who is not a priest of Shan Tal."

"Oh," Jim said. "Well, in that case, I guess it is all right. Tell Wu Cho I accept his generous offer."

The meal began with servings of chrysanthemum soup, made of beef stock with tiny slices of fried pork. Large white chrysanthemum petals floated on top of the soup. After the soup there were dim sum meat rolls and then a dish Jim had not seen before. It had pork, chicken, shrimp, and beef—these ingredients, he could identify—plus several vegetables that he could not identify.

"Pin, what is this?" he asked. "It is delicious." Jim ate expertly with chopsticks, having learned that trick soon after arriving in China.

"It is called sub gum, Master."

"Sub gum?"

"That means many costly things."

Jim laughed. "Yes, I can see that it is an appropriate name." He looked around the room and saw the richly lacquered panels, the beautiful hanging tapestries, the gold and jade artifacts. He added, "If anyone could afford to serve many costly things, it would be Wu Cho"

Wu Cho spoke again, and Pin translated.

"Wu Cho asks if you are pleased with his hospitality."

"Yes, of course I am," Jim replied.

Wu Cho spoke again, in the lilting, almost singing, language, and Pin, without embellishment or voice fluctuation, translated.

"Wu Cho asks if you think Lo Ching would be pleased by his house and hospitality."

"Oh, I'm certain he would," Jim said.

"It is important that he please Lo Ching," Pin said.

"I suppose it would be," Jim replied. "After all, Lo Ching is the chief of the entire province. It wouldn't do to get him angry with you."

"In three months," Pin went on, translating Wu Cho's conversation, "Lo Ching's daughter, the Princess Pai, will come to Tsingyan to become the wife of Wu Cho."

"What?" Jim asked, sharply.

Wu Cho, who could not understand English, could understand the nuance of inflection and could read the expression in Jim's face. He noticed that Jim was agitated, and he asked Pin why.

"Master," Pin said. "Wu Cho has asked if something has displeased you."

"No," Jim said. "I . . . uh . . . just thought of something, that's all. Tell Wu Cho I beg his pardon for my outburst."

Pin spoke to Wu Cho, and Wu Cho laughed, then replied.

"Wu Cho says the Chinese mind cannot understand the inscrutable Fan Kuei," Pin said.

The meal concluded with fried bananas and an intoxicating liquor made of sorghum. Jim, looking at Wu Cho and realizing that Wu Cho would soon possess Pai, drank a bit more than he had intended, and within a short time he felt his head spinning. He did not want to get drunk; doing so would make him a spectacle. Also, he knew he should keep his wits about him, so, while still able to make a rational judgment, he declined an additional offer of liquor.

Wu Cho laughed and spoke again.

"Wu Cho says you are a man who likes spirits," Pin said.

"I am a man who is tired," Jim said. "Ask Wu Cho, if I may be excused to take an afternoon nap. The journey was tiring, and his hospitality was great. The combination has left me sleepy."

Pin translated, then relayed Wu Cho's answer.

"Wu Cho is happy that you would request that he extend his hospitality by offering you a room and a sleeping mat. This young woman will take you there now." Pin pointed to a woman who was on her knees ' behind Jim. She was bent forward at the waist so that her forehead touched the floor. Jim had already learned that this position was referred to as the kowtow position. It still bothered him to see people kowtow to him, and, though he bowed respectfully to the Manchus, he refused to kowtow.

The girl said something, and her voice was as soft and melodic as the tinkling of tiny wind-bells.

"She begs your forgiveness, Master," Pin said. "But she must walk in front of you in order to show you the way. She knows such behavior is disrespectful, and she apologizes for offending you."

'Tin, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Jim said in confusion. "Of course, she must walk before me. Tell her there is nothing to forgive."

"If you will forgive me, Master," Pin said. "It is my humble suggestion that you tell her that you forgive her and instruct her not to commit such an offense again. That answer would be in keeping with the custom. However, I shall speak as your tongue in whatever way you decide."

"I . . . very well," Jim said with a sigh of frustration. "Tell her that, if you think it is the proper thing to say."

Pin repeated his statement, and the girl—duly chastised—stood, bowed again, and began leading Jim away from the great dining hall. As he left, he noticed that most of the diners present were kowtowing to him.

The girl moved on silent feet before him. Following her, he looked around the great house. It was more than a house: it was a palace. The palace was not as large or as grand as Lo Ching's Pure Palace, but it was large enough and grand enough to be fit for a princess. It would, no doubt, please Pai.

Pai. Why was she still on his mind? Wu Cho was a Manchu prince. It is only natural that Pai would be his wife. Besides, he had only met Pai two times: what proprietary rights did he have?

Though Jim tried to reason himself out of it, the thought that Pai would soon live here as Wu Cho's wife unsettled him.

The girl stopped, then knelt beside a door. She motioned with her hand, and Jim realized she intended him to go in.

"Thank you," he said, though he knew the girl didn't understand him.

With two great windows, the room was large and light. The furnishings were relatively sparse. There was a sleeping mat on one side of the room, a table and stool on the other side, and a large, blue vase near one of the windows. The furnishings mattered little to Jim, who only saw the bed.

But even as he contemplated the bed, he saw that the young girl with him had other ideas about how it was to be used. For, quite as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, she, began removing her clothes. Her movements were studied and graceful, and in the twinkling of an eye she was completely naked. She lay on the bed and looked up at Jim through smokey eyes and patted the bed beside her. She smiled and spoke and, again, her voice was like the tinkling of wind-bells.

Jim felt the liquor-induced dizziness intensify. He wasn't sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. This lovely girl was obviously inviting him to share the bed with her. Could this be an extension of Wu Cho's hospitality?

Jim started to protest, to send the girl on with his thanks. Then, quite inexplicably, he thought of Pai— lovely, sexy Pai, who would soon be the bride of Wu Cho—and he felt a sense of betrayal. In his convoluted reasoning, he felt that making love with this beautiful creature on the sleeping pad would, somehow, even the score with Pai and Wu Cho for their betrayal of him. He began to remove his clothes.

The girl, seeing now that Jim did intend to join her, smiled seductively, ran the palm of her hand down her smooth skin, and arched her back sensuously, inviting him on with a lustful gaze.

Now, all pretense was gone for Jim. He saw the girl not as a means of paying back Pai and Wu Cho for their alleged betrayal, but for what she was—an extremely desirable creature of the flesh.

Jim started to say something, but his mouth was dry, his tongue was thick, and he couldn't form the words. But he knew that it wouldn't matter, that the girl would be able to understand him anyway. Besides, he didn't really have anything to say. He dropped to his knees next to the girl and looked at her in total appreciation of her charms.

The girl put her arms around Jim's neck and pulled him to her for a kiss.

From the first moment of her kiss, Jim became disassociated from reality. All thought and feeling were blotted out, with the exception of the white heat of the kiss and the spreading fire of his sexual arousal. Jim stretched out beside the girl, feeling her wonderfully smooth skin, her soft curves and her firm breasts. Her passionate, experienced lovemaking beckoned him to the ultimate explosion, sweeping him quickly up to and over the precipice.

It was over all too quickly. It had been good for Jim—he couldn't deny that. But there was not the same degree of ardor or passion as there had been with Pai. This was a physical thing and immensely pleasurable, but something was missing. With Pai there had been more than a physical union—there had been a spiritual union as well.

Jim lay there, temporarily satiated and scolded himself for thinking of things that could not be. The spinning in his head had been stilled, only to be replaced by a strong desire for sleep. He closed his eyes and moved his arm across his forehead. Then shielding his gaze, he looked at the woman with whom he had just made love. She was quietly dressing, and when he saw her look toward him, he closed his eyes again, feigning sleep. Within a few moments he was asleep.

Jim spent two days in Tsingyan, negotiating through Pin with Wu Cho. Finally the trade agreement was concluded, and Jim left Tsingyan to go to the next place where he would do business. His caravan was still richly laden; though he had left several gifts with Wu Cho, he had collected just as many. In truth, his cargo was more valuable now than it had been when he started.

It was, perhaps, the richness of his caravan which finally induced die hill bandits to make their try. The journey had been so devoid of adventure for the three weeks of Jim's travels that he was beginning to believe that the stories of the fierce gangs of bandits were exaggerations. He would soon find out differently.

They were in the tiny village of Pehshan; the horses had just been loaded for the return trip to Canton. Jim was at the well in the square of the village, filling the goatskins with water. Pin and Cao were stoically watching over the horses when Jim heard a commotion from the north end of the street He looked around to see what was causing it. Twelve horsemen came through at full gallop, brandishing broadswords. Two men of the village rushed out to meet them, and they were immediately cut down by the flashing swords.

"Pin!" Jim shouted.

Jim needn't have shouted a warning, for Pin and Cao had moved to position themselves between the horsemen and the caravan, each standing on either side of the road.

The riders broke into two groups of six, riding two by two, and each group advanced toward the priest on either side of the road. They were screaming like all the demons of hell and flashing their swords in the midday sun. The swords of the first two riders were red with the blood of the two slain villagers.

"You can't fight them!" Jim shouted. "Get out of their way!"

The horsemen moved closer together, intending to nm down the two priests.

That was their mistake. As they passed, Pin and, Cao grabbed the halter of both animals and jerked down sharply. The horses tumbled head over heels throwing the riders. The second two horsemen managed to swing away to avoid collision, but that brought them close to the priests. Pin and Cao let out a shout and, in unison, leaped onto the backs of the animals, right behind the surprised riders. Quick chops to the back of the riders' necks sent them tumbling to the ground. The priests grabbed the swords of the unhorsed riders, then they wheeled the horses around to face the remaining bandits.

Within seconds, Pin and Cao caught up with the other riders, moved in between them, and began engaging them with the sword. The swords clanged loudly, ringing like bells as the blades crossed. Then, though no signal was passed between them, Pin and Cao suddenly leaped off their horses just as the bandits on either side lunged with their swords. The blades of the bandits found flesh—each other's flesh—and they gasped in pain and surprise.

Pin and Cao leaped onto the horses of two of the remaining four bandits and dispatched them neatly with chops of their hands. Though the last two bandits tried to escape, they were cut down by the slashing swords of the priests. The entire skirmish—from the time the horsemen rode into the village until the last two swordsmen lay bleeding in the dirt—lasted less than one minute.

Pin and Cao were now mounted on horses belonging to two of the slain bandits, and they turned and rode back to the well. By now the entire village had turned out. As Pin and Cao swung off the horses in front of the well, the villagers—every man, woman, and child—sank to their knees and kowtowed before them.

The four bandits who had been first unseated had merely been stunned and now, slowly, were regaining their feet. They looked around in confusion and disbelief at the carnage around them. How had two old men been able to perform such miracles?

The two old men walked over to the well and calmly began drinking water. The four bandits, fully recovered, picked up their swords and started toward them, brandishing them menacingly. Suddenly^ one of them let out a shout. Though Jim could not understand what he was saying, he realized that the shout was a shout of pure terror.

The bandit threw his sword to one side, pointed to his wrist, then sank to his knees, crying and kowtowing before the two men who were still drinking water. The others suddenly threw away their swords as well, and they, too, fell upon their knees.

Jim looked at the priests and saw that each of them had a small chrysanthemum tattooed on his wrist. He realized then that this was the symbol of their priesthood.

Pin spoke in sharp Chinese, and men from the village came to lead off the bandits—now as meek and mild as babies—to the village jail.

"Master, please accept my apology for any inconvenience you have suffered," Pin then said to an amazed Jim. "We may return to Canton now, if you wish."

"Yes," Jim said. "Yes, I wish. Thank you, Pin."

Jim had been certain that Pin and Cao would keep the horses they had captured in the battle, but the two priests gave the horses to the village, then began trotting along in front of the departing caravan.

"Pin?" Jim asked awhile later.

"Yes, Master."

"Why didn't you and Cao keep the horses? You came by them in honest battle."

"It is forbidden, Master," Pin said simply. "A Shan Tal Priest cannot profit from his martial skills, for to do so would violate the solemn principles of the order."

"But no one would find fault with keeping horses gained in honest battle," Jim said. "They are the spoils of war."

"A priest of Shan Tal cannot lose a battle," Pin explained, as if explaining something to a child. "If a priest profited from every battle, he would soon be wealthy and then would no longer be a priest."

Jim laughed. "I like your confidence," he said. "But surely you don t expect to win every fight you are in?"

"Yes," Pin said. It was a simple declarative statement, made with neither false modesty nor excessive vanity.

Jim laughed again, as if not understanding Pin's logic. "But surely there are others who are as skilled as you."

"None."

"What if you fought one another?" Jim asked, pointing to the two of them. "One would win and one would lose."

"Shan Tal priests would never fight each other," Pin explained.

"But what if you did? Who would win, and who would lose?"

"One would live," Pin said. "The other would die. Neither would lose."

Jim shook his head in amazement. "You are pretty serious about this thing, aren't you?"

"Yes," Pin said simply. It was enough said.

# Chapter 5

Captain Jim Lyons's trip into the Middle Kingdom had been very successful: within six weeks he had negotiated trade agreements with merchants and province chiefs who had steadfastly refused to do business with Fan Kuei in the past. This was due in part to the patronage of Lo Ching, in part to the fact that the one known as Big Cat had learned—through his association with the Shan Tal priests—the delicate art of tsin shu, a subtle, though powerful, persuasiveness.

Lo Ching's own coffers were improved with each successful negotiation, not only because of the tax he charged Jim but because of the tax he charged the merchants as well. For his part Jim considered the tax just and equitable, for without Lo Ching's sponsorship he would have been much less successful. He was more than making up in trading agreements what he was paying out in taxes.

Lo Ching was gaining more than monetary profit from the exchange, because merchants who had previously dealt with Shanghai were now dealing with Lo Ching and Canton, thus increasing Lo Ching's sphere of influence. In a country fragmented into spheres of influence with no one, clear-cut ruler, he who had the largest sphere of influence had the great® est power.

Having just returned from another long journey, Jim was being honored by Lo Ching with one of his elaborate dinners. Jim had managed to see Pai for a too-brief hour of passion earlier in the day, thanks to the manipulative skills of Pai's handmaiden, Tsu. Jim's meetings with Pai were more and more frequent now, and he found every excuse to visit Lo Ching so he could avail himself of the opportunity. As yet, Lo Ching was unaware that Jim had ever seen Pai, and Jim measured his speech carefully when talking with Lo Ching so that he would never say or do anything which would betray her.

"Answer a question for me, Big Cat, if you would," Lo Ching said. He held a piece of shrimp between his chopsticks, and he gestured with it as he spoke. "Every meal, I have seen to it that the most beautiful courtesans of Canton are available for your pleasure, yet you have never chosen one to warm your bed. Why is this?"

Jim was caught unawares by the question, and he looked over at the three or four women indicated by Lo Ching. They were, indeed, beautiful, and each of them looked at him in open invitation.

"I . . . uh . . . wasn't aware that you had brought the young ladies here for my benefit," Jim stammered. "I thought they were all the property of Your Excellency."

Lo Ching enjoyed a hearty laugh. "I am a Manchu, yes," he said. "And a man with a royal appetite. But even I would be unable to pleasure all these women."

Jim laughed with Lo Ching. "The feats of Lo Ching are legendary throughout the Middle Kingdom," he said. "I could believe such a thing of you."

"Tonight you will choose a woman," Lo Ching said.

"Really, it isn't necessary. I should return to my ship and—"

"You will choose," Lo Ching said again, and his statement was so preemptive that there was no room for Jim to dissent.

Jim looked at the four women. Under ordinary circumstances, he would be hard pressed to choose, because the sexual appeal of all the women was great, and no one woman appealed to him any more than another. But these circumstances weren't ordinary. He had left Pai that afternoon, with the promise that he would return to her that night after her father's dinner party. How, now, was he to do this?

And then, as if answering his silent plea for help, Tsu appeared. She was carrying a tray, and went busily about her task of selecting food for her mistress. Then, as she passed behind one of the four girls, she stopped, looked at Jim, and in a motion which was perceptible only to Jim, indicated that he should choose the girl in yellow.

"Very well," Jim said to Lo Ching. "If I have my choice of these lovely young ladies, I shall choose the one in yellow."

Lo Ching smiled broadly. "Ah, you have made a good choice, Big Cat. Sanh is a lovely young woman and a delightful partner in bed. I am certain you will know pleasure beyond all imagination with her."

Sanh realized that Jim had chosen her; she smiled and blushed and looked demurely at the ground before her.

"Enjoy your visit with Sanh," Lo Ching said. "For tomorrow I ask that you sail to Taiwan. There, you will contact the merchants whose names I have included in a letter for you and negotiate trade agreements with them, telling them that they must do all their business through me."

Jim already had enough agreements to ensure several cargoes. He was anxious to return now with his first shipment and had no real desire to go to Taiwan, for to do so would be a delay of at least six more weeks. He groaned inwardly; he had no wish to show Lo Ching displeasure, as that might jeopardize everything he had done so far.

"Good," he said. "That is a great idea, Excellency. I will sail with the morning tide."

"And when you return, one of my factories will have your first shipment ready," Lo Ching said. "Now," he added, smiling. "You have my permission to withdraw."

"Thank you, Your Excellency"

Jim stood up, stretched his legs to restore the circulation, and looked over at the girl in yellow. She hid a laugh behind a fan, then stood, bowed low to Lo Ching, bowed to Jim, then started to leave the room.

"We will think of you enjoying Sanh while we are here, eating," Lo Ching said. Then he laughed and said the same thing again in his own language so the others at his table could enjoy his humor. Jim was embarrassed by Lo Ching's ribald humor, but he made no show of it. He followed the girl out of the great dining hall.

The girl walked through the winding halls until she came to a room which was obviously a bedroom. She stopped, opened the door, then got on her knees and bowed low.

"Look," Jim said. "You don't have to do this. We can just—"

The girl said something in Chinese, and Jim realized she didn't understand what he was saying. She spoke again and made an impatient gesture with her hand. Jim knew she wanted him to go into the room. He sighed.

"All right," he said. He looked at her. "What I can't understand is why Tsu picked you. I thought it might be because you spoke English."

The girl spoke again and again gestured impatiently. This time Jim knew that she was telling him to remove his clothes!

"You are determined to do this thing, aren't you?" Jim said, sighing in helplessness. If there was no way to communicate with the girl, he supposed he had no choice but to go along with her. Reluctantly he began removing his clothes.

Sanh smiled, then walked over and pulled out a dressing screen. Then she turned her back to Jim and began removing her own clothes.

When Jim was fully undressed, he lay on the sleeping pallet and watched as Sanh prepared herself for him. She was a truly beautiful woman, and she used great skill in undressing, making each item of clothing she removed not a disrobing, but an unveiling.

Despite Jim's protestations to the arrangement, Jim found himself being stimulated by the very sight of such a beautiful woman and the balletlike grace of her movements.

When Sanh was completely nude, she turned to smile over her shoulder at Jim, then she reached up to let her hair down. She stepped behind the screen so that only the top of her head was visible. Jim watched her long graceful fingers release the ivory comb and the hair tumble down below the screen. Then the girl moved back out and stood nude before him.

It was Pai!

"What?" Jim gasped, sitting up on the pallet and staring at Pai in surprise. "Where did you come from?"

Pai let a bubble of laughter escape from her lips and she held a finger across them, cautioning him to be silent.

Jim jumped up from the pallet and walked over to look behind the screen. No one was there, nor could he see a door or any other opening to indicate how Sanh had left.

"How did you get here?" he asked. "What happened to Sanh?"

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"Yes, of course I am," Jim said. "But I don't understand."

"One should not question the occurrence of happy events," Pai said. She dropped to one knee on the pallet beside Jim and put her hand on his shoulder, then let it trail down across his chest. She leaned over, bringing her lips to his so he could feel the warmth of her breath and taste the mint of it, just before she kissed him.

The kiss deepened, and Jim's hands moved to Pai's body, caressing her, scorching her with an intense heat. Then Jim turned, putting her beneath him, and his weight came down on her, and she took him willingly, eagerly, thrusting up against him, helping him as he made slow and wondrous love to her.

By now each had become delightfully familiar with the body of the other. This wasn't a stolen moment of passion in a pagoda, nor an hour of desperate cleaving in the garden. This was a union as it should be, a man and woman making love on every plane of communication—emotional, spiritual, and physical.

Soon Pai felt it beginning, that pleasure which was one thousand, thousand times better than kissing. It began deep inside as a tiny tingling, pinwheeling out, spinning faster and faster, like the blazing windmills children lit during fireworks. The windmills inside her turned faster and faster, spinning their fire through her body until finally, in an explosion of ecstasy, Pai achieved the release and satisfaction she yearned for. Cries of pleasure rose from her throat, and the golden sparks from within seemed to pass before her eyes in flashes of light just as her body gave its final, convulsive shudders.

In the lengthening shadows of the room they lay side by side without speaking, but feeling for the moment as if they were the only two people in the world. This was the first time they had not had to go their separate ways quickly, for fear of being discovered. Lo Ching had arranged this night of privacy for Jim. Little did Lo Ching know that Jim would be sharing the privacy with Lo Ching's daughter.

The mission to Taiwan was as successful as the missions to the Middle Kingdom had been. After six weeks Jim was returning to Canton with enough trading agreements to keep him busy for the next three years. Yet it wasn't the prospect of the wealthy trading agreements which filled Jim's mind as the ship sailed back.

Jim looked at his watch, saw that it was midnight, put the gold chronometer away, then leaned over the quarterdeck rail to look at the night sea. It was his favorite time, a time when he could be alone with his thoughts, and, of late, his thoughts were of Pai.

The night air was clear and sharp, and the sea stretched to the horizon in gently rolling magenta, textured by the rising foam of waves. In the water just below the ship hundreds of brilliant green streaks, phosphorescent fish, glowed like a city of lights.

"Cap'n Lyons, sir," a boy's voice said from the darkness behind him.

Jim turned away from the sea and saw Michael Kelly, his cabin boy. Michael was standing in the splash of green cast by the mantled running lights.

"Michael, a young man like you should be in bed," Jim said easily. "Don't tell me you are on the dogwatch."

"This is your watch, isn't it, sir?" Michael asked. "Aye, lad, that it is. But there's no need for you to be up and about, losing your sleep."

"I couldn't sleep, sir, for feeling I was shrugging my duty," Michael explained. "My duty is to serve you in whatever capacity you ask, and should you be up and about during the dogwatch and have a need for anything . . . why ... I could scarcely do my duty if I was asleep now, could I?"

Jim laughed. "Michael, lad, I must confess that such talk is strange coming from a boy who has sworn never to set sail again."

"I've no wish to be a sailor forever, Sir, but I'm a sailor now," Michael said, "and as long as I'm a sailor, I'll do my duty as it should be done."

"You're a good lad, Michael, that's for true and certain," Jim said. He turned and looked back over the sea.

"Would you like your pipe, Sir?" Michael asked.

"My pipe? Yes, that might be nice. Would you be a good lad and fetch it for me?"

"I've taken the liberty, Sir," Michael said, pulling the pipe from his jacket pocket. "I've filled it with tobacco, too."

"Michael, I tell you, lad, it won't be the same coming back to sea without you. I wish I could make you change your mind."

"No, Sir, I won't be changing my mind, Sir," Michael said. "Already we've been too long from California—nearly six months on this voyage—and I long to be back."

"Aye," Jim said. He sighed. "I'm a bit anxious to be getting back myself," he said. "For truly, Michael, I've enough shipping contracts now to pay the _Thunderbolt_ off and make a small fortune."

"That's wonderful news, Sir," Michael said sincerely.

"Aye," Jim said. "I can make a fortune but all of it won't buy me . . ." He paused.

"I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"What?"

"You stopped in mid-sentence, Sir. You said all the fortune wouldn't buy you—and then you stopped. What wouldn't it buy you?"

Jim laughed. "You've heard the story the poets and musicians sing, haven't you, lad? About how all the riches and gold in the world can't buy a man happiness?"

"Aye," Michael said, laughing. "I've heard such tales."

"'Tis plain from the looks of you that you don't believe that."

Michael laughed again. "There's many a poor man who could buy happiness with a hot meal," he said.

"Aye, that's true enough," Jim said. "But real happiness, lad. The kind only a good woman could bring a man—that can't be bought, now. And you're looking at living proof."

"I don't understand, "Michael said.

"No, lad, I don't expect you to. It may be that you are a mite too young to understand about women."

Michael laughed self-consciously. "I know what men and women do, Sir," he said.

"Oh, do you now? And I suppose you've visited every whore in Canton by now, have you?"

"No, Sir, not everyone," Michael said.

"How many, then?" Jim asked, teasing the boy and enjoying the boy's discomfort. "How many what?"

"How many women have you been with?"

"I'm not sure, Sir."

"Ten?"

"No, Sir," Michael said. "I doubt that I have been with that many."

"I doubt it, too," Jim said. "Five, perhaps?"

"No, Sir, not quite that many, either."

"Two?"

"Uh . . . no, Sir," Michael stammered.

"Boy, have you ever been with a woman at all?" Michael looked at the deck. "No, Sir," he said. "I never have."

Jim laughed and ran his hand through Michael's hair. "Don't feel bad, boy. The truth is I hadn't either until I met someone on this voyage."

"You, Captain?" Michael asked, thunderstruck by the revelation.

Jim laughed. "Well, now, I thought I had, lad, I thought I had. The truth is I consumed women the way fire burns up dry timber. Women were a means of achieving physical release. A temporary release, because the last woman I never remembered and the next woman I didn't know."

Jim turned and looked out over the ocean again. He was silent for a long moment, but Michael didn't speak, because he knew he wasn't expected to speak.

"Then I met someone in Canton. There is something extraordinary about her. Something which has awakened feelings I thought were impossible."

"Cap'n, are you telling me you are in love with this woman?"

"Love? Yes, I suppose so," Jim said. He laughed, a small self-deprecating laugh. "Though it does me little good, for it is a love which shall never be."

Jim looked out to where the rolling sea seemed to meet the sky. He could almost see Pai's face just over the horizon, waiting for him.

Pai stood in the window of her bedroom and gazed out over the harbor. She longed to see the tall masts of Big Cat's ship there. He had been gone for six weeks. For six weeks she had lived through the agony of his absence, moping around for him, aching with a hurt which could be alleviated only by his presence. Three days earlier Pai had told Tsu her secret "I am going to have a baby," Pai said.

Tsu gasped and felt the icy fingers of fear clutch at her heart. "No," she said. "No, you mustn't!"

"It is too late for such warnings," Pai said. "It is a deed already done."

"But, My Lady, the consequences! Lo Ching will surely have your captain killed!"

"No," Pai said. "He won't do that. He can't do that, for I shall go to my father and plead for the captain's life!"

"Pai, forgive me, but you are a young girl who has led a sheltered life. You do not understand the situation. Lo Ching will have Big Cat killed." And though she didn't say the words, Tsu feared for Pai and her own life as well.

"Then what can we do?" Pai asked, finally beginning to understand.

"I know a woman," Tsu said. "She is a very wise old woman, and she understands what must be done to stop the baby from coming.

"No!" Pai said, putting her hands across her stomach protectively. No, I cannot do that!"

"I'm sorry, My Lady. But I know of no other way."

"I know of a way," Pai said conspiratorily.

"How?"

"I will leave Canton," she said. "I will leave Canton and go with my lover to California."

"How do you propose to do such a thing?"

"I will leave it in your hands," Pai said. "You will discover a way for me to go."

"Yes, My Lady," Tsu said. Tsu said the words quietly, resignedly, for she knew, even if Pai didn't, that her own death warrant had just been signed.

# Chapter 6

"So, my fine, sea-faring friend. You have several fat trading agreements which will keep the holds of your ship filled for many voyages," Lo Ching said.

"Yes, Your Excellency, and I owe it all to you," Jim said. "Your friendship and patronage have been most helpful"

"I, too, have profited from our relationship," Lo Ching admitted, "For all the merchants must now deal with me. I will have taxes from the trade and influence over their fortunes." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Yes, there is much good when two people have a mutually profitable arrangement, is there not?"

"Much good, Your Excellency."

Jim had come to the Pure Palace for one final going-away dinner. His ship was already loaded and riding low in the water, awaiting the morning tide. He would be returning to America on the morrow.

The mood on board the _Thunderbolt_ was exuberant. Every man of the crew was anxious to return in America. There was a lightness to their step and a cheeriness to their voice as they sang the old sea chant and prepared the ship for its run across the wide Pacific.

Jim, by contrast, was quite somber. Though he had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams in securing the trade agreements he sought, he felt a gnawing hollowness at leaving Pai behind. Oh, how he wanted to go to Lo Ching and tell him that he was in love with his daughter and wanted to marry her.

Jim's eyes darted around, searching the faces of the servants for Tsu. He had to speak to Pai He had to convince her that they should speak to Lo Ching together. Surely with the position of influence he now enjoyed with Lo Ching Lo Ching would be agreeable to a proposal of marriage. After all, Jim was going to be a wealthy man. He was going to be an extremely wealthy man.

Finally, Jim did see Tsu. When she caught his eyes and stepped back into the hall, Jim knew that she wanted him to come to her. He waited a moment longer, then excused himself from the banquet room and stepped out into the hall. He looked up and down the hall, saw Tsu standing near a door, and started toward her. Tsu gave a very slight nod toward the door, then she went on down the hall, walking quickly as if bound on some errand.

Jim stopped outside the door, looked around, and then slipped inside. He knew that Tsu had just shown him where to meet Pai. He was anxious to see her again after so much time had passed he was anxious to attempt to persuade her that they should go to her father with a confession of their love for one another. Perhaps it was this anxiousness which caused him to be careless, for when he looked back toward the banquet room, he failed to see one of Lo Ching's bodyguards.

Ho Fong had hoped to curry favor with Lo Ching by bringing him the news of the Fan Kuei's betrayal.

Ho Fong had overheard the conversation between Tsu and Pai on the day Pai had confessed her condition. He knew who the father of the baby was, and he knew that if Lo Ching knew, the father would be put to death. Ho Fong believed that if he carried such important news to Lo Ching, Lo Ching would reward him for his loyalty. It did not occur to Ho Fong that such news would mean danger for Pai as well. He thought only of his own reward and was completely oblivious to the other consequences as he sneaked up to the door to listen to the conversation between Pai and the Fan Kuei.

"Pai," Jim said, holding his arms open so she could rush to them. "I have missed you."

"I have missed you, as well," Pai said, her eyes sparkling happily now that she was with her lover. She warmed herself in his embrace and leaned against his muscled body. She could feel the pressure on her stomach, and though she did not show signs of her pregnancy, here, with the man she loved, she seemed acutely aware of the baby s presence.

"I have something I want to talk about," Jim said. Pai laughed. "And I have something I want to talk about, as well."

"All right," Jim said. "You talk first."

Pai pulled herself back to arm's length and looked into Jim's face. She smiled as if she knew a wonderful secret, and never, Jim believed, had he seen anything so beautiful.'

"We are going to have a baby," She said.

"What?" Jim asked, flabbergasted by the revelation.

Pai patted her stomach, and laughter bubbled from her lips. "The baby is here, now," she said. "Soon it will be here." She cradled her arms as if holding an infant.

"But...why, Pai, that's wonderful!" Jim said. "That just gives that much more weight to the argument I will make to your father. I intend to ask him to let us wed."

The expression of happiness left Pai's face to be replaced by a quick fear. "No," she said, horror-stricken at such a suggestion. "No, you cannot speak to my father of such things," she said.

"Why not?" Jim asked. "Surely he will want the baby to have a father? And I am now a man of means ... He cannot object to your marrying me."

"You are a Fan Kuei," Pai said. "My father is a Manchu prince. I can be married only to another Manchu prince. I am betrothed."

"I know," Jim said dryly. "I met Wu Cho, your . . . intended." He set the word "intended" apart and twisted his mouth as he said it, uttering the word with distaste. "Pai, you cannot love him?"

"No," Paid said. "No, I love only you."

"Then you must come with me. You must marry me."

"I will," Pai said.

"What? You will?" Jim replied, surprised at her easy acquiescense. "But I thought you said we couldn't speak to your father."

"We cannot," Pai said. "If my father discovers what has happened, he will kill you."

"But you just said you would marry me," Jim said, confused by the way things were going.

"Yes' Pai said. "But we cannot ask for my father's permission. I will meet you in the golden pagoda one hour before the tide. You can take me to the ship, and I will go with you to California."

"I don't know, Pai," Jim said. "I've no wish to betray your father in such a way. There must be another way for us."

"There is no other way," Pai said. "If you wish me to be your wife, you will come for me. Of course, such a thing means you will no longer have the trade agreements with my father. You will lose much money."

"Pai, you know the money means nothing to me," Jim said, stung that she would even make such a remark.

Pai smiled. "Then you will come for me?" she asked.

Jim looked at her, then he broke into an easy smile. "Yes," he said. "I will come for you." He pulled her to him again for one more quick embrace.

"Now, you must return to the banquet," Pai said. "And I ... I have many things to do to prepare myself for you."

Jim kissed her again, and, with the heat of her kiss still on his mouth, he left the room to return to the banquet.

Ho Fong was speaking in Lo Ching's ear when Jim returned, and Jim settled back into his place. He wondered what Ho Fong w.as saying to Lo Ching. Among all Lo Ching's retinue, Ho Fong alone had been openly hostile toward Jim. Jim discussed the hostility once with Pai, who told him that Ho Fong was a bitter man, a bastard child whose Manchu father had never recognized him and, thus, had doomed his son forever to a class beneath his own. .

Whatever Ho Fong had said to Lo Ching, it must have been of little importance, because Lo Ching's facev remained totally impassive. Yet Jim had the strangest sensation that Ho Fong had said something about him, because once he thought he saw Ho Fong looking his way.

The wine flowed freely for the rest of the banquet, though Jim—partly because he was sailing in the morning, but mostly because he wished to keep his wits about him for the delicate task of pirating Pai away that evening—abstained from the liquor. The tide would occur at about four A.M. Jim excused himself at midnight, offering profuse thanks to Lo Ching for all he had done. He made a big show of leaving, and he looked around to drink in the beauty of the place. He felt as if he might be playing it a bit too obvious, but he wanted no one to suspect that he might be returning in the morning.

The sailors on board the _Thunderbolt_ had enjoyed their own banquet, for they knew that months of unappetizing sea fare faced them. Thus the deck had been spread with all the Canton delicacies the sailor's means had allowed, and all the men were well fed and happy by the time Jim returned to the ship.

"You missed a fine feast, Sir," Michael said. He smiled. "Though it is my thinking that you enjoyed one of your own."

"Aye, lad, that I did," Jim said. He looked around at the others, then motioned Michael over to take him in his confidence. "Lad, I'm in need of a favor from you," he whispered.

"Cap'n, you've but to request it," Michael said.

"Do you remember when we spoke, lad, on our voyage back from Taiwan, and I made mention of the fact that I had found a woman I loved?"

"Aye, Sir, I remember well," Michael said.

"She'll be cornin' back to America with me," Jim confided.

"What? Why, Cap'n, look here, that's wonderful!" Michael said. "Wait until I tell the others, they'll—"

"No," Jim said quickly and so sharply that it surprised Michael. "That is ... I don't want the others to know."

"Why, Cap'n, they are sure to find out," Michael said. "How would you keep such a thing a secret?"

"Oh, I know they will find out," Jim said, "but I don't want them to know about it until I bring her aboard. If anyone finds out too early, he may be tempted to sneak a woman aboard for himself, and that would cause problems. No, I think it best that we keep this a secret until the last possible moment."

"Aye, Cap n, if you say so," Michael said.

"Good, good. Now, my cabin ... it hardly seems a fit place for a princess, but—"

"Did you say a princess, Sir?" Michael asked.

"None other than Lo Ching's daughter, Pai,"

"But, Cap'n," Michael said, puzzled by the information. "I was told that a Manchu princess couldn't even be seen by a white man."

"That's true."

"How did you—"

"It's a long story," Jim interrupted, "and one that TO be glad to tell you during our voyage back. Now, if you will, do what you can to make my cabin comfortable for her."

"Aye, Cap'n, TO do that with pleasure," Michael said. "When will she come aboard?"

Jim pulled out his gold watch and consulted it. 'Til be going ashore in three more hours," he said.

"I will use the excuse that I left some important papers there. At that time I will meet Pai at a secret place and bring her back. By the time Lo Ching realizes she is gone it will be too late for him to do anything about it."'

"But, Cap'n, what about your trade agreements? You won't be able to come back here, will you?"

"No," Jim said.

"Will you lose your ship?"

"I don't know," Jim said, "but right now I don't care. I care only for that girl, Michael. Someday, lad, you will find a woman, and then you'll know the feeling I'm speaking of. It's a burning in your heart, a flame that can be extinguished only when you are with her. I never thought it would happen to me, but it has, and the truth is ... I would gladly abandon everything for her . . . even this ship. And I believe that if I couldn't have her ... I would lose the joy of living. I've got it that bad, lad."

"My Lady, you cannot take so many things," Tsu whispered.

"So many things?" Pai said in exasperation. "How can you say I am taking many things? Look what is being left behind!" She waved her arms around her room. "I'm taking only these four trunks."

"But how will we get these trunks out to the pagoda?" Tsu asked. "And how will your captain get the trunks from the pagoda to his ship? My lady, if you are going to do this thing, then you must realize that you are turning your back on what you are."

"But my dresses," Pai said. "And my jewelry."

"Are they more important than your love for Big Cat?"

Pai suddenly smiled. "No," she said. "No, they are not more important. You are right, I am being foolish." I need none of this. I will leave it behind." I will leave it all behind, for it means nothing to me."

"And what about your responsibility as a princess of the Manchu?" a man's voice suddenly said. Does that mean nothing as well?'?

Pai and Tsu let out a collective gasp, for there, standing in the door of Pai's room, was Lo Ching. Behind Lo Ching, smiling triumphantly over his shoulder, was Ho Fong. Behind Ho Fong stood a company of armed guards.

Tsu and Pai both fell to their knees and bowed over to touch their foreheads to the floor.

"So," Lo Ching said, stepping into the room, "you would be leaving tonight with the Fan Kuei?"

"Yes, my father," Pai said quietly.

"How could this be?" Lo Ching asked. "You have never before seen him."

"But she has, Excellency," Ho Fong was quick to point out. "I overheard the conversation between your noble daughter and the miserable serving maid, in which your noble daughter admitted that she is carrying the Fan Kuei's baby."

"Is this true?" Lo Ching asked. Amazingly, he did not raise his voice or shout in anger. Yet, for those who knew him, the signs of great anger were visible. His small dark eyes shone with an inner fire, and a vessel on his temple throbbed.

"Yes, my father, it is true," Pai said. "I have been seeing the Fan Kuei."

"Why have you done this?"

"Because I love him," Pai said.

"Love? I do not recognize that word," Lo Ching said. He walked over to the window of Pai's room and looked out over the bay. He could see the _Thunderbolt_. "How was it you were able to see him without my knowledge?" he asked.

"I made the arrangements, Your Excellency," Tsu said.

"I see," Lo Ching said.

"I am a most unworthy wretch to have sinned against you so," Tsu said.

"You will pay for your sins," Lo Ching said quietly, "as will Pai and the Fan Kuei who betrayed me."

"Please, Excellency, allow me a word with you," Tsu said.

"Why?" Lo Ching asked. "Do you wish to plead for your miserable life? For if you do, I will save you the time. I will grant no such plea."

"Then, grant but a moment of time for one who has so little time left," Tsu asked.

Lo Ching sighed, "You may speak."

"What I have to say is best said without witnesses," Tsu explained.

Lo Ching looked at Ho Fong and the others. "Leave," he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

"And Pai?" Tsu asked.

"Pai stays," Lo Ching said. "Whatever secret you will share with me will soon be in the grave with my treacherous daughter."

"Very well," Tsu said. "Pai may hear my words."

Ho Fong and the others left as ordered. Tsu waited for a moment, then walked to the door and opened it. Ho Fong was standing just outside the door, holding his ear so that he might overhear the words Tsu would say to Lo Ching.

To you take your master's word so lightly?" Tsu asked Ho Fong. Toes it mean so little to you that you can betray his orders to leave?"

"Noble one," Ho Fong stammered to Lo Ching. "I sought only to remain that I may offer you protection, should they—"

"Protection?" Lo Ching said. "You would protect me from my own daughter?"

"I didn't know . . . perhaps she—"

"Leave," Lo Ching interrupted. "Your prying ears have brought enough, sorrow on this house. I will have no more of your spying."

"But, I seek only to please you," Ho Fong said.

"Do you think it pleases me to pronounce the sentence of death upon my daughter?" Lo Ching asked.

Ho Fong bowed his head. "Forgive me," he said. He turned and walked quickly down the hall. Tsu waited until he was gone before she closed the door. She turned back to face Lo Ching.

"When last we drank at the fountain of love, you granted me any wish I wanted," she said.

Pai looked at Tsu and her father with surprise. So this was why Tsu wouldn't tell her who her lover had been. It had been her father.

"Yes," Lo Ching said.

"I ask that my wish be granted now."

Lo Ching pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Finally, he sighed. "So," he said, "now you ask for your wish when you think it would save your life?"

"Yes," Tsu said. "I ask that you spare me. Let me live, Excellency."

"And if I let you live, where will you go? I will not have you here. I never want to see you ^gain."

"I will go to Shan Tal," Tsu said. "There, I will take a vow of silence and live the remainder of my life atoning for my sins."

"Yes, Father," Pai said. "I beg of you, grant Tsu her wish."

Lo Ching looked at his daughter. "You ask me that, knowing that I can strike no such bargain with you?"

"Yes, Father," Pai said quietly. "Tsu tried to prevent me from seeing my captain, but I would not listen. I would die happy, knowing that Tsu did not have to pay for my sins."

"Very well," Lo Ching said. "Your wish is granted," he said to Tsu.

"Now, I would strike a bargain with you," Tsu went on.

"A bargain with me?" Lo Ching said. "You have been granted your wish. What more is there?"

"There is something more," Tsu said. "Something I wish to bargain for."

"With what would you bargain?"

' "With my life," Tsu said quietly.

"You offer to bargain with your life?"

"I do."

"Then I would hear the bargain which <you consider so important that you would wager your own life," Lo Ching said.

"Allow Pai to live," Tsu said, "and Big Cat, as well."

"That is your bargain? Your life for theirs?"

"Yes."

"Your miserable life is not worth the life of my daughter," Lo Ching said. "And even if it were, I could not do as you suggest. It is known that my daughter betrayed me. I cannot let her go free. The people would expect her execution. To do any less would be to betray the trust of the people."

"Say that you are going to execute her," Tsu explained. "And lead her to the chopping block with a hood over her head. After the execution, claim the body for a royal burial so that no one will realize what you have done."

"And you will go to the chopping block?" Lo Ching asked.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Tsu, no!" Pai screamed, reaching for her.

"Daughter, do not interfere!" Lo Ching ordered harshly.

Tsu looked at Pai with a sweet smile on her face. "My Lady, do not stop me from doing this glorious thing," she said. "For my one, insignificant life, I can prolong the lives of three others. Yours, Big Cat's, and that of the baby which is as yet unborn."

"But I can't let you do that," Pai insisted.

"Do you wish your baby and Big Cat to live?" Lo Ching challenged.

"Yes," Pai said, weeping now. "But I don't wish Tsu to die."

"She must die," Lo Ching said. "I have no other choice. The blood lust of the people must be appeased."

"But what will become of me afterward?" Pai asked.

"You will go to the Shan Tal Temple," Lo Ching said. "There, you will remain for the remainder of your life. The child, when it is born, will be taught by the priests of Shan Tal, and it will become a priest o o . never to be made aware of its noble birth."

Pai put her arms around Tsu. 'Tsu, I don't want you to die," she sobbed.

"Write a letter to Big Cat," Lo Ching ordered. "Explain to him that you have a responsibility to your class and to the Chinese people. Tell him that you will not meet him and that you never wish to see him again."

"That won't stop him from coming to see me," Pai said.

"That is too bad," Lo Ching said. "Because if he does come, I shall have to have him killed."

"Perhaps I can stop him," Tsu suggested. "He trusts me. I can deliver the letter and assure him that the letter is genuine. Afterward I will return here. You can sneak Pai into the Shan Tal Cloister telling everyone that you have spared my life. I will then dress in a royal gown and, as Pai, go to my execution."

"Yes," Lo Ching said. "Yes, that is what we must do." He looked at Tsu for a long time, as if aware for the first time ever of the limits to his own power. If there were any way in the world he could spare the life of this woman, he would do it.

But Lo Chings hands were tied.

# Chapter 7

There was a secret way into Lo Ching's garden and a secret way into the golden pagoda. Pai had laughingly shown it to Jim shortly after they began having their liaisons; those secret passages had explained the mysterious way Pai seemed to appear and disappear. Only a few people knew of the secret passages, Pai had said, as they were to be used to escape from any enemy who might gain control of the grounds.

The passages were so secret that Jim could use them, coming and going at will, without fear of being discovered by any of the armed guards who patrolled the grounds. They had served Jim in good stead while he was sneaking in to see Pai, and they served him now, as he slipped through the velvet night to meet Pai and bring her back out.

A quiet rustle of leaves from the trees in the garden was die only sound Jim heard as he started into the pagoda. The moon was high and exceptionally bright, and from this vantage point the whole city lay out before him, painted in bright silver, almost as clear as midday. Out on, the bay—itself a pond of molten silver—the _Thunderbolt_ lay low in the water, heavily loaded for the voyage back. On board the ship those men who were asleep were sleeping lightly, Jim knew, for on the night before a voyage began there was little sleeping done by anyone.

Jim went into the golden pagoda and crossed over toward the princess's prayer room where he would meet Pai. He was extremely cautious as he moved now, searching out every shadow to make sure he was alone. If he happened to be caught out here now, he would be killed, with no questions asked.

On the other hand, Jim knew that if he could make it to the prayer room of the princess, he would be safe. No one but the princess ever dared to venture into that room. That point was vividly made one afternoon when he and Pai, after having shared an afternoon of love, heard the faithful visiting their Buddha just outside the prayer room. Jim had tensed, fully expecting one or more of them to come into the prayer room and catch them, but Pai had merely smiled and held her fingers across her lips. After a while everyone left, and Pai and Jim were safe.

"To enter this room without my permission is punishable by death," Pai explained, when he said he thought they were about to be caught. For that reason Jim knew that he could safely wait for Pai—for as long as was necessary—once he reached her room.

Jim could smell the still lingering scent of incense sticks as he quietly opened the door to the prayer room. He stepped inside the room, then pressed against the wall, staying in the shadows, as he looked around.

"Big Cat," a quiet voice said. It was a familiar voice, but it wasn't Pai's voice. The voice belonged to Tsu.

"Tsu," Jim said. "What are you doing here?"

"I bring you a letter from my lady," Tsu said.

"A letter? What do you mean? She's supposed to be here. Where is she?" Jim asked anxiously.

"Please, Big Cat," Tsu said. "Just read the letter."

"It's too dark to read," Jim said, "and I dare not light a candle."

"You may light a candle in here," Tsu said. "No light will escape." Even as Tsu spoke she went to the altar where there were matches and candles. She lit one, then carried the flickering flame back to Jim, who unfolded the letter Tsu had given him.

Dear Big Cat,

Please forgive me, but I cannot come with you. I am a Manchu princess, and I have a responsibility to my father and to my people. I must stay in China.

I can never, see you again. You must forget me, as I shall forget you. Return now to America and to your own life. There is no place in my world for you, nor in your world for me.

"No," Jim said with an anguished, muffled cry. "I don't believe this letter. Pai didn't write this."

"Yes, Big Cat, she did write it," Tsu said.

"But she couldn't have. Pai loves me and I love her. Yet, nowhere in this letter is the word love' even mentioned.

Tsu smiled patronizingly. "Big Cat, there are many differences between your race and mine, and between the blood of a commoner and the blood of a royal princess. Princess Pai did not mention the word love, because there is no love."

"I don't believe that!"

"There is no love," Tsu went on patiently as if explaining something to a child. "Nor was there ever love. You were but a diversion, an amusement for the princess. But now you return to America, and the amusement is over."

"But she is going with me," Jim protested. "She told me she was going away with me."

"Alas," Tsu said. "I fear that Princess Pai cannot stand to see anyone disappointed. She told you she was going with you, because she knew you wanted her to. But she never had any intentions of actually leaving."

"Then why didn't she tell me before I risked my neck coming here?" Jim asked.

Tsu laughed—a small, lilting, wind-chime laugh. I'm afraid it was but one more amusement for her," Tsu said. "She wished to see if you would really come for her."

"I don't believe a word of this," Jim said. "Not unless I hear it from Pai herself."

"Very well, Big Cat, I will tell you with my own lips," Pai suddenly said, stepping out of the shadows in the room. She had been very quiet and very still and was hidden by the dark so that even when Jim had lit the candle, he had been unaware of her presence.

"Pai," Jim said, smiling broadly. "Pai, you are here. Come along now. I've prepared my cabin for you. You will have a fine trip back "

"No, Big Cat, I am not going with you," Pai said. "Tsu speaks the truth."

"What?" Jim asked quietly. "Pai, you can't mean

this."

"I do mean it, Big Cat," Pai said. She laughed. "Did you really believe I, a princess, could really be in love with a commoner and a Fan Kuei?"

"Yes," Jim said in a small voice. "Yes, I believed that."

"Then you are a foolish man, Big Cat. Now, I think you must return to your ship quickly or you will miss the morning tide."

"Yes," Jim said. The tone of his voice was now very cold and very calculated. "Yes, I would noir want to miss the tide, for it would keep me here until the next tide. And Ive no desire to remain one moment longer than necessary. Good-bye, Madam."

"Oh, Big Cat, you may have a good-bye kiss, if you wish," Pai said.

I'm sorry, Madam, you shall have to seek your 'amusement' elsewhere," Jim said coldly.

Jim snuffed the flame of the candle with his bare fingers, then he slipped through the door and out of the golden pagoda. Pai and Tsu stood there in the dark for a long moment, then Pai began to weep, barely able to hold her sobs in check. Tsu opened her arms and took Pai to her, cushioning her mistress's head on her own shoulder.

The jailer rattled the bars of the dungeon cell, and Tsu, who had been bowing before Buddha, stood up. She was wearing the royal clothes of a princess, and she held herself with royal bearing. But it wasn't the clothes which gave her regality. Her regality was the direct result of her own courage.

"Is it time?" she asked.

"Soon, oh Noble One," the jailer said.

Few outside the intimate family of Lo Ching had ever seen Tsu, and fewer still had looked upon the face of Pai Thus when the news was released that the prisoner was Pai, daughter of the Manchu prince, the jailer and many others thought Tsu was Pai. Ho Fong and those few guards who would have known the difference were carefully kept away so that they would not realize the deception.

"How soon?"

"When the sun is at the top of the sky, you will be taken to the market square, where before the eyes of all the people of the city, your head will be severed."

Feeling a tingling sensation, Tsu, involuntarily, put her hand to her neck. She finally managed a small weak smile. "Then let it be done," she said.

"I leave now," the jailer said. "When I return, it will be time."

The jailer opened the door without a further word. The clanging of the keys and the rattle of the door seemed louder than ever before. And, oddly, it seemed to Tsu that she could see things in the jailer's face that she had never noticed before—a mole, a scar over one eye, a pockmark, a nose which may have been broken at one time. It was as if all her senses and perceptions were sharpened.

Tsu returned to lie on the small sleeping pad which was placed on the cold stone floor. The sleeping pad was provided in deference to the princess. Had the jailer known Tsu was only a serving maid, Tsu, like the other prisoners in the dungeon, would have been forced to sleep on the cold, dank stones of the floor with neither pillow nor covering.

Tsu lay on the pallet and looked around the cell. It was only dimly lit by the bars of light which slanted in through the high, tiny, barred window and by the, flickering yellow of the candles which lit the guard's area just beyond the bars. She wondered how many others had lain here, staring at these very walls as they awaited their own execution. What had they thought about? Would she be communing with them in just a few more minutes?

Oddly, Tsu felt no stomach-wrenching fear. Instead, a sense of calm came over her. Gone was the anxiousness she had felt earlier. She was ready to die, and as she lay on the pallet, she accepted it as calmly as if she were waiting for the visit of a friend. After all, she told herself, Isn't death a friend? Death will come to everyone, and once it has arrived, what difference does it make how long one was able to hold it off while alive? For one who has been dead but an hour differs not from one who has been dead for one thousand years.

Tsu dozed off, sleeping comfortably and without dreaming, until she was awakened by the opening of the cell door.

Tt is time, oh Noble One," the jailer said.

T am ready," Tsu replied.

The jailer produced a small black hood and placed it over Tsu's head. Holes had been cut for the eyes, because it was the custom not to blindfold the victim, but to shield the victim's face so that others could not read the fear there. In this case it also served to further disguise Tsu from those few who would recognize her.

Tsu followed the jailer through the long, dark, stone hall until, after climbing a series of foot-polished stone steps, she emerged in the marketplace.

Tsu heard the crowd before she saw them, for they were loud and boisterous, and the noise of their celebration had" reached down into the tunnel. The first thing she noticed after she left the tunnel was the brightness of the sun. Her eyes had long been unaccustomed to the light, and she blinked painfully several times so that tears, not of fear or sorrow, but of light-induced pain, ran down her cheeks.

Her eyes finally cleared as she reached the place of execution. A construction of wood, with several steps leading up to the platform, stood before her. Normally, Tsu knew, the executioners used only a wooden block, much like a butcher's block; they placed the victim's head on the block; then quickly, and with little ceremony, they severed it. But this was the execution of a royal princess, or so the crowd thought, and there had to be more attendant ceremony involved.

A guard stood on either side of the steps, and as Tsu reached them, the guards grasped her elbows to help her negotiate the steps until she reached the top. There, she saw the executioner's block, the same butcher's block, though now placed on this platform for all to see. Standing next to the block, a large, muscular man held a broad-bladed ax. The man was completely bald except for a long pigtail, which trailed down his back. He looked straight forward with unblinking, unemotional eyes.

Tsu turned to look out over the crowd. She had no idea how many were there, but there were people all the way back to the walls of the city—men, women, even little children, all with tumed-up curious faces. From her newly arrived reapproachment with death she was able to observe them casually, objectively, as if it were someone else about to die, and not her at all.

Many of those in the crowd had looks of sympathy or sorrow on their faces. Some seemed to have a sense of horror; others seemed simply curious. What surprised Tsu the most, though, was the great number of expressions of eager anticipation, the great number of those who were obviously looking forward to the gruesome spectacle they were about to witness.

Tsu wanted to laugh at them, to tell them they weren't going to see anything, that her body might feel the executioner's ax, but that she wouldn't be in her body. And so Tsu remained stoic, lest she compromise the deception she had so carefully worked out.

"Would you take your place?" the executioner asked.

Tsu stepped over to the block, then looked back toward the palace. There, standing on a balcony on the top floor, she saw Lo Ching. She knew that Pai had already started on her journey to Shan Tal; for that, Tsu was glad. She had feared at first that Lo Ching would force Pai to watch, but Lo Ching agreed to Tsu s request that Pai be allowed to start her long journey to Shan Tal. Tsu had been warmed by the unexpected show of softness in Lo Chings heart. She smiled at that thought as she placed her head on the block. After all, she would not want Pai to witness the death of her own mother.

She heard the swish of the ax as the executioner brought it down.

The journey to Wulkang, a village high in the Sueh- feng Shan Mountains, had taken Pai many days. She had started her journey in an ox cart, later switched to the back of a donkey, and for the last few days had walked. She had been given the name of a shop and told to ask for a man named Sang. She would show Sang her letter of introduction, and Sang would guide her the rest of the way to Shan Tal.

Shan Tal was an ancient and honorable cloister, which clung like a white flower to a cliff wall north of Wulkang. Those people who were products of Shan Tal were priests and priestesses of the highest order in China, but it took a lifetime of preparation to reach such a state. For Pai, there would not be enough time. It was for her child that she had come to Shan Tal, though Pai would be given cloistered sanctuary for the rest of her life.

Pai saw a well in the village street, and she stepped over to it to take a cool drink of water. As she drank from the dipper, she looked around at the hustle and bustle of activity. This was market day, and farmers from the fields and wives from the homes were shouting and shoving, trying to get the best price possible for a duck or a head of cabbage or some other product which would soon wind up on the dinner table.

Despite her fatigue and her sorrow over the recent turn of events, Pai felt a sense of warmth over seeing people in the everyday intercourse of life. It was an exciting thing to her and she would have gladly stopped her journey right here to become one of them if she could have done so.

But she was honor-bound to enter the cloister and give her child over to die abbess, a woman named Mata Wong, so she placed the dipper back in its holder, wiped her mouth, and looked at the shops-to locate the correct one.

It was a shop which made straw baskets, and she spotted it right across from the well. She walked across the dusty street, then stepped in through the frontdoor. Shuffling between stacks of straw baskets, a pretty young girl approached. She smiled and bowed,

T am looking for Sang," Pai said.

The girl smiled again and held up her hand as if to ask Pai to wait a moment. She walked away and disappeared among the mountainous stacks of baskets.

Pai looked around the shop. Everywhere tall stacks of woven baskets stretched to the ceiling. The shop was fragrant with the clean smell of fresh straw.

"You wish to see me?" an old man's voice asked

"You are Sang?"

"I am Sang," the old man said. He weaved through the stacks with grace and agility. Pai was particularly cognizant of the skill with which the man moved, because the man was blind. He turned sightless eyes toward Pai. "The journey has made you tired because you are with child. You should sit." The man gestured toward a pillow on the floor, and Pai, gratefully, settled on it. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Pai replied.

"You are a woman of rare quality and beauty," Sang said. "How may I help you?"

"I have a letter," Pai said, reaching in the folds of her cloak for the document. "But—" she was going to say, "But you are blind."

Sang laughed. "You wonder why someone would send a letter to me? Please, may I have it?"

Pai gave the letter to the blind man, and he held it for a moment. Then the expression on his face changed and he dropped to his knees and bowed, putting his forehead to the floor.

"Welcome, Princess," he said.

"You know who I am?" Pai asked.

"Your secret is safe with me," Sang said. "Now, you will want to go to Shan Tal."

"Yes. When may we leave?"

"If we leave now, we can be inside the gates before darkness^" Sang said. "Though, perhaps you would prefer to rest more."

"No," Pai said. "I wish to reach the cloister as soon as possible."

Wery well, we shall leave at once," Sang said.

Sang disappeared into the back of the shop; when he returned a few moments later, he was carrying a long staff and wearing rope sandals. "I am ready," he said.

Pai was tired from her long journey, but the thought that she would soon be at the end of her travels spurred her on. She followed Sang through the dusty streets of Wulkang and out the far end of the village to a path which wound its way up the side of a mountain. Higher and higher they climbed until the path finally gave way to a tortuous and very steep trail. Once Pai looked behind to see the tiny cluster of buildings which made up Wulkang, and she was amazed that they had come this far. Then, ahead of her, she saw the white of the cloister, gleaming brightly in the sun, though still so small that she wondered if they would ever reach it.

Sang, though blind, moved along the trail so quickly that Pai was hard pressed to keep up. He said nothing during the entire climb; for that, Pai was thankful, for she was too short of breath to talk.

Finally, just as the sun became a blood-red orb perched on the line of the horizon bathing the entire valley below in its golden tones, they reached the gates of the great white edifice.

"So, this is Shan Tal," Pai said. She turned to look back into the valley below. The scenery was rugged and beautiful.

"Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?" Sang said.

Pai was a little startled that the blind man realized that she was enjoying the scenery. But then she realized that Sang had to have brought many people to this very spot. Probably all had the same reaction to the beauty that she had.

"I, too, think it is beautiful," Sang said. "There was a time when I didn't know how to enjoy beauty without eyes, but now I listen to the wind and feel the rocks and smell the air and the bloom of the wild mountain flowers. I know this is a lovely place."

The gates opened, and a large man—perhaps larger than any man Pai had ever seen before—beckoned them in.

"Be careful as you enter," Sang cautioned. "The footing down here, near the gate, is quite treacherous."

Sang moved up the path quickly, walking a little ahead of Pai who found it necessary to watch her footing. Within moments Sang had far outdistanced Pai. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"Please, forgive me," he said. "I warned you about the trail and then went off and left you. X will slow my pace to match yours."

"Thank you," Pai said. She was breathing rather heavily, not only from exertion, but from the thin air of the altitude.

The path led to a garden, perhaps the most lovely garden Pai had ever seen. It was far more beautiful than the garden on her father's grounds; she wondered how such exotic plants and flowers could grow in such a place. Pai went to the bench and sat down, glad to have a place, at last, where she could rest,

A very beautiful woman of an indeterminate age met them. She greeted Sang, then turned to Pai and smiled. "I am Mata Wong," she said.

"I am—" Pai started, but Mata Wong put her finger to her lips.

"No," Mata Wong said. "Here, you have no name. You have only peace. We will feed you and care for you all the rest of your days."

"Thank you," Pai said. "And my child?"

"She will be one of us," Mata said.

Pai felt an immediate sense of peace and wellbeing. Her world had just retreated to the area behind the walls of Shan Tal. She cared nothing for the political intrigue of her father's world. She cared only that here were people who would accept her.

Pai didn't even question the fact that Mata Wong had told her that her unborn child would be a girl. "She will be one of us," Mata Wong had said. And somehow Pai knew that Mata Wong was right.

Pai would name her Le' Sing. The name meant Tears of Jade. Le' Sing would be Pais tears for Tsu and for her captain.

# Chapter 8

SAN FRANCISCO: November 1860

* * *

No one was aboard the _Thunderbolt_ when Sheriff George McKay stepped on board. She looked like a ghost ship: her holds were empty, the wheel was lashed down, canvas covered the compass, and the loose lines which hung from the masts whistled and snapped in the cold wind.

"Hello, the ship!" Sheriff McKay called. "Be there anyone on boards "Who are you?" a voice asked, and the sheriff turned to see a man—no, more properly, a boy, for the one who accosted him was little more than 12 years old. Yet the boy carried himself with the confidence and assurance of one who was ready to take life on its own terms, with the effect that one didn't think of him in boyish terms. He was wearing a seaman's coat—buttoned at the neck and collar turned up. His hands thrust into his pockets, he walked across the deck toward the sheriff.

"I'm Sheriff George McKay," the visitor on deck said. He thrust out his hand, but the young boy didn't take his own hands from his pockets nor make any effort to accept the sheriff's handshake. "Yes, well, 1 can see you know why I am here," McKay went on.

"You've come to put a sheriff's plaster on the mast."

"Yes. Of course, I don't have to do it now. If the ship owner will pay the seventy-five hundred dollars due, the ship will be his."

"You know he doesn't have the money," the boy said.

"Obviously he doesn't," the sheriff said. "Or he wouldn't let this boat go."

"It's a ship," the boy said proudly. "If you are going to take a man's property away from him, you should at least learn what it is you are taking. You should learn the difference between a boat and a ship."

"What the hell am I talking with you for, anyway?" Sheriff McKay said, now annoyed by the boy's attitude. "Where is the ship owner?"

"He's in his cabin. He isn't feeling well."

"Who are you?"

"The name is Kelly. Michael Kelly. I'm the Cap'n's cabin boy."

McKay laughed. "Cabin boy, is it? Well, Captain . . ." He looked at the papers. "Captain Lyons," he continued, "isn't going to be in need of a cabin boy now. I'm seizing this ship for a sheriff's sale. You and the captain are going to have to leave."

"Sheriff, please, don't kick the captain off the ship just now. I told you, he is sick." This time Michael's voice was less challenging, and there was in it a certain note of uncertainy and fear which demonstrated to the sheriff that he was, after all, but a boy. Michael's plea touched the sheriff and he softened slightly.

"Boy, you can understand, can't you, that this is none of my doin'?" he asked. "This ship has been served by die court, and I'm merely followin' the orders of the court. "I've got to plaster it."

* * *

"All right, plaster it if you must, "Michael said "But at least let the captain live on board until I find another place for him to go or until the ship is sold—one or the other."

The sheriff sighed. "What's the matter with him?"

"He's . . . he's got a disease he picked up over in China," Michael said. "The doctors here don't know anything about it, but I do 'cause I was there. I can treat him and make him well again if we can just stay here for a while longer."

"All right," the sheriff finally said. He pointed his finger at the boy and wagged it back and forth in an admonishing way. "But, mind you, this ship had better not move so far as one inch from where she is, now. And the moment there is a buyer, you'll be thrown off."

"I understand, Sheriff, and I thank you," Michael said, smiling broadly. Now he brought his hand out of his pocket and extended it toward the sheriff. The sheriff, caught off guard by the boy's infectious smile and enthusiasm, accepted the hand before he remembered that his own effort had been spumed earlier.

"Mind you, remember what I say," the sheriff said again, and he started back toward the gangplank to return to the dock, alongside which the _Thunderbolt_ was moored. Then, recalling why he had come aboard in the first place, he went over to the mast and tacked up the notice of a sheriff's sale. This accomplished, he left the deck without so much as another word.

Michael watched the sheriff walk back down the dock toward his horse. The boards of the dock were damp from last night's rain and from the cold, rolling sea. Michael spotted a piece of sodden bread and watched a rat, his beady eyes ever alert for danger, dart out to the prize, grab it, then bound back along the dock toward one of the long warehouses where it lived..

The rat, with its warehouse full of food, had no problems. Michael and Captain Lyons did have problems, for nearly all the ship's stores were gone and there was no money to buy any more. Michael had found part-time work sweeping out a nearby saloon, but the pay was so low that it scarcely was able to keep both in food.

The crashing sound of glass told Michael that Captain Lyons had just finished another bottle of whiskey. Michael grimaced. There was no money to keep them in food, but there was plenty of whiskey. The disease the captain had picked up in China was the disease of drinking too much whiskey.

If Michael could find the whiskey he would sell what was left of it. But Captain Lyons was too clever in his hiding. The whiskey was what was left from the ship's cargo. It was originally to be given as gifts to the Chinese merchants, but Captain Lyons had diverted some of it for his own purposes. To Michael it sometimes seemed as if the captain had diverted all of it for his own purposes.

"Michael, lad," Captain Lyons called, and Michael turned from his spot near the rail and looked back toward the captain's cabin. Lyons was standing just inside the door jamb, bracing himself as if the ship were at sea and rolling. "Were you hammering away at something a moment ago?"

"It wasn't me, Cap'n," Michael said easily.

"But I'm sure I heard something."

Michael pointed to the mast where the sheriff had affixed his notice. "We had a visitor," he said calmly.

Jim looked toward the mast and saw the plaster. "Damn!" he swore, and he walked over to it, moving with jerking, lunging steps. Once he nearly fell and had to reach for the hatch cover of a nearby hold to steady himself. "So the damned sheriff has done his foul deed, has he?" Jim tore the plaster from the mast, wadded it up, then lurched to the side of the ship to throw it overboard. It hit the water, then floated along the edge of die hull until it became water- soaked and sank.

That won't do any good," Michael said calmly. "He'll just put another one on."

"And I'll tear that one off, too," Jim said.

"Cap'n, if you do that, they'll throw us off," Michael said. "He wanted to throw us off this time, and I begged him to let us stay."

"You begged a land-lubbing son-of-a-bitch to let me stay aboard my own ship?" Jim roared.

"Yes, Sir."

"How dare you do that! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I was just tryin' to look out for you, Cap'n," Michael said, stung by his captain's unexpected remarks, "Well, I don't need you to look out for me," Jim said. He went back to his cabin, and Michael followed him.

"You need someone to look out for you," Michael said. "Captain, you haven't been sober since that Chinese lady turned you down."

"She was no lady—she was a princess," Jim said, twisting his mouth on the word princess. "Only she wasn't a princess," he went on. "She was a whore. An out and out whore, and I fell for her line." Jim grabbed his sea bag and began throwing clothes, books, and navigation articles into it.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Jim asked. "I'm getting the hell off this ship."

"But you don't have to," Michael said. "Don't you understand, the sheriff said we could stay."

"No, you don't understand," Jim replied angrily. "I'll stay nowhere on someone's charity "

"But where will we go?"

"Where will toe go?" Jim asked. He laughed. "Well, boy, I don't know where you are going. But I have the whole city of San Francisco out there. I'll find a place all right"

"But, Cap'n, I'm not making enough money to feed us and pay rent," Michael protested.

"Don't you understand, boy?" Jim roared. "I don't need your damned money and I don't ward your damned money and I don't want you hanging around me anymore. Now get the hell out of my sight!"

Michael's eyes brimmed with tears, and he felt a lump in his throat He knew that Captain Lyons didn't mean what he was saying. He knew that it was a combination of heartbreak and whiskey talking, but he knew also that he wouldn't be able to get through the shield the captain was holding up. He had no choice but to do as the captain said.

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," he said. I'm leaving." He turned slowly and started toward the gangplank.

"And don't call me 'Captain'!" Jim shouted after him. "A man can't be a captain without a ship."

"Aye, Sir," Michael said.

"Boy!" Jim called.

Michael stopped and looked back toward him.

The anger was gone from Jim's face, and for a moment Michael saw a sadness, deeper than he ever thought a sadness could be. Jim fumbled under his jacket for a moment, then came out with a gold pocket watch. It was, Michael knew, Jim's most prized possession. "Here," Jim said, holding it out toward the boy.

"What? What are you doing?"

I'm giving you this watch," Jim said.

"Cap'n, I can't take that watch," Michael protested. "You value that more highly than anything you own." Take it," Jim said gruffly. "If you don't, I'll wind up trading it for a drink in some godforsaken place." Hesitantly, Michael reached for the watch. He held it in his hand, feeling the weight of it. Appreciating its warm, golden glow, he turned it over and read:

Presented to First Mate James E. Lyons by his friends and crew from the brig Forward, 1855

"Most crews can't wait until they get ashore so they can waylay the ship's officers," Jim said. "But this—" He tried to laugh, but it came out a choking sound. This crew of the Forward was all mixed up," he said. They gave me a watch instead."

There's never been a man jack sail with you but would do the same," Michael said. "Cap'n, I've no right to this watch." He tried to give it back.

"Keep it," Jim said. "Keep it or I swear I'll take it to the nearest saloon and trade it for a bottle of whiskey right now."

Michael jerked the watch back. "No," he said. "No, I can't let you do that. I'll . . . -I'll keep it. But only until you get on your feet again. After that you can have it back."

"Yeah," Jim said. He took down a false panel on the after-bulkhead, and there Michael saw the remaining whiskey. There were only three bottles left. Three from how many? Michael wondered.

Jim uncorked one of the bottles, took several deep swallows, then palmed the cork back and dropped it and the other two bottles in his bag. He looked at Michael and smiled.

"Well, lad, it appears that we each have something to keep us happy, eh? You've a fine gold watch now, and I still have three bottles of whiskey before I have to worry. We'll both get along fine."

"Aye, Cap'n," Michael said quietly. "We'll both get along fine." Michael turned and started for the gangplank again. This time he stepped on it, then down to the dock without looking back.

Jim stood just inside the cabin and watched Michael as he walked slowly along the dock. He was glad the boy didn't look back. He really liked him, and sending him away now was very hard for him to do. But the boy deserved better than to be saddled with the likes of Jim Lyons now. Jim wasn't fit company for himself, let alone a young man as fine and full of potential as Michael Kelly.

When Michael was off the dock and out of sight behind the nearest warehouse, Jim picked up the sea bag, threw it over his shoulder, and left the ship. He had no idea what he would do now. He couldn't go back to sea as an able-bodied seaman; he had too much pride for that, even in his present drunken state. Yet he knew that he could scarcely function as a ship's officer in his current state. Besides, he had lost his taste for the sea. There would have to be something else for him. He wanted something as far from the sea as he could get.

Jim turned into the first bar he saw after he left the waterfront. There were a few sailors in here, but most of the men were miners, draymen, or ranchers. A piano was playing in the back of the room, and the gaudily painted' woman leaning on it smiled an invitation to him. Jim turned away from her and headed for the bar.

"What'll it be, sailor?"

Jim stuck his hand in his pocket, but had no money. Then he remembered his sea bag, and he reached down and fished out a wooden case. He put the case on the bar, opened it, and there, resting in felt lining, was his sextant.

"What will you give me for this?" he asked.

"Hell, I won't give you anything for it," the bartender said. "I don't even know what the son-of-a-bitch is."

"It's a sextant."

"A sextant, is it?" a man said from the far end of the bar. Jim looked up and saw himself ten years ago, a young seaman poised on the edge of a career. He was wearing a new officer's cap, untarnished by the sea. Jim was glad that he was wearing only a sock cap, nothing to indicate that he was a captain.

"Aye," Jim said. "It's a sextant."

"How did you come by a sextant?" the young man asked, coming down toward Jim's end of the bar. "Did you steal it from one of your officers?"

"I ... I won it," Jim said. "I won it in a card game."

The young man picked up the sextant, handling it with the knowledge of one who has newly learned and is eager to demonstrate that knowledge. Jim winced because he had learned long ago to treat the delicate instrument with a bit more sensitivity than was this brash young man.

"Do you know to use this?" the young man asked.

"No," Jim lied.

The young man held it up and sighted through it. "I'll give you twenty dollars for it," he said.

Jim knew the instrument was worth more, but he knew also that twenty dollars would be about the most he could expect under the circumstances. He sighed. "All right," he said. "Twenty dollars it is."

The young man gave him the money, then reached out for the case and pulled it possessively toward him. "You've made a good bargain, sailor," he said.

"Now I'll have that drink," Jim said to the bartender, and the bartender took a glass from behind the bar and splashed whiskey into it.

"What's your name, sailor?" a woman's voice said, and Jim turned to see that the woman from the piano had crossed over to lay her claim to some of the money. Jim looked at her. Under the makeup she wasn't all that bad, and as he examined the swell of her breasts, he felt a familiar warmth returning. Perhaps a woman was what he needed now. Yes, perhaps this woman could help him forget Pai.

"They call me Sailor," he said. "What's your name?"

"Hannah."

"Well, Hannah, what do you say we talk a little business?".

* * *

SHAN TAL: February 1861

* * *

The golden light of the candle bathed the walls of the tiny room in flickering yellow. Mata Wong dipped a cloth in a pan of water and bathed Pai's head. Though snow was on the ground outside and the stone walls of the temple seemed to intensify the cold, Pais face was bathed in perspiration, for she was burning with a fever.

"Mata Wong," Pai said, speaking in words so soft that Mata Wong could scarcely hear her.

"Yes?"

"I have written a letter. See?" Pai pointed to the table beside her bed, where there was a parchment covered with red ideograms. The beautiful Mandrian calligraphy was done in such a way that each brush stroke seemed to have been applied by an artist. One would not have known that the letter was written in haste by a woman who was dying.

"Who is the letter for?" Mata Wong asked.

"It is for the girl child I am about to bear," Pai said.

"I will see that she gets it."

"Mata Wong, I have asked nothing of you since my arrival," Pai said.

"You have been a most welcome guest," Mata Worig said.

"And I am about to deliver to you the fruit of my womb, so that you may train her in the ways of Shan Tal."

"This is true."

"I know she will become a priestess with many strange and wonderful powers. I now ask of you to charge her with the responsibility of carrying out the instructions in my letter. Make this her life's mission."

"If you wish," Mata Wong said.

"You have not read the letter," Pai said.

"I do not need to read it," Mata Wong said. "I will do as you ask."

"You are truly a wonderful woman," Pai said, then a spasm of pain hit her and she winced.

"The baby will be here soon," Mata Wong said.

"I will live to see the baby's face," Pai replied. "Tell me. Promise me: I will live to see the baby's face."

"You will live to see the baby's face," Mata Wong said.

The pain came again, and it was as painful as before, but Pai bore it with a smile because she knew she was going to see her baby before she died.

# Chapter 9

SHAN TAL: Spring 1875

* * *

Late afternoon shadows darkened the room, but bars of soft sunlight fell on Le' Sing's golden nude body so that she was entirely visible. But even without the spotlighting effect of the sun, Le' would have been the focal point because of her beauty.

. It was not the voluptuous beauty of a fully-developed woman, for Le' Sing was only fourteen years old. But it was a pure beauty, unblemished and innocent. Her curves were gentle and suggestive, rather than overpowering and sensual. Only the tightly drawn nipples imparted the full flower of womanhood to her small breasts.

Le' Sing was napping on the sleeping pad in her room, and she was sleeping in the nude because she was ordered to do so during the week of Cholingteng, an annual spring celebration observed by the temple of Shan Tal.

Le's room was small, as was the room of all the students who studied at Shan Tal. She had a sleeping pad, a small table, a water basin, and a small lacquered box. Inside the box was a letter written to her by the mother Le' had never seen. Mata Wong, the high abbess, had charged Le' with the responsibility of keeping the letter safe at all times and had told her that at the conclusion of her studies she would be expected to follow the instructions given her in the letter.

Le' knew very little about her mother, but she talked to her. The presence of the letter often made Le' feel that her mother was present as well, and when she was distressed, she would sometimes speak to her mother. She never heard an answer, of course, but she did often feel a calming presence. In that, Le' felt that she was luckier than the other boys and girls of the temple, for none of them had a mother to comfort them.

The week of Cholingteng was an exciting time for the young of Shan Tal. This was the week those who were old enough "came of age." Exactly what happened when one came of age, Le' didn't know, for once those had passed that important milestone they left the classes of the young and from that moment on were regarded adults.

For girls, the age at which one came of age was fourteen. This was the spring of Le's fourteenth year, and she was anxious, and a little frightened about what was going to happen.

Le' had been invited to participate in a special meal earlier that afternoon, and there she had dined sumptuously on roasted meats, baked breads, and pastries. It was a total change from the spartan meals which were her usual fare, and she thought that if all adults ate so well, it would be wonderful to be an adult. She didn't realize that this meal was as special for the adults as it was for her, for it was a meal of celebration and not indicative of their normal eating.

In addition to the feast, there had been quantities of plum wine—also an unusual occurrence—and Le' had consumed all the wine which had been put before her. Because of that, she had gone to sleep as soon as she returned to her room.

Le' slept all through the afternoon and into the night. When footsteps could be heard in the hall outside her room, she was so groggy that she paid no attention to them. It didn't mean anything to her when the footsteps were accompanied by excited whispering, but when her door was suddenly thrust open and those who were whispering came into her room, her grogginess was penetrated enough for her to know fear.

"What is it?" Le' asked, sleepily. "What are you doing in my room?"

Shan Tal was a place of no creature comfort, and the lot of all the students was a hard one. But there was one thing which was strictly adhered to at Shan Tal, and that was the right of privacy in one's own room. Not even the high abbess would set foot in Le's room without Le's permission. Thus, the fact that someone had dared to enter her room now was nearly as shocking as it was frightening.

With a great effort, Le' forced herself to sit up, trying to understand what was happening.

"Quickly, she wakes! Cover her with the blanket!"

"Help!" Le' shouted, but her voice was immediately muffled as a blanket was dropped over her head.

Powerful arms lifted her up, and although she kicked and tried to force her way out, she was a prisoner. The blanket was drawn more tightly, and she felt as if she would suffocate. She panicked and tried to scream.

"Careful with her," one of the voices said. "You know what will happen if she is marked in any way."

"She will not be marked," another voice answered.

"Look, the moon nears the tower of the dragon. We must hurry."

The tower of the dragon?

Le' was suddenly cold with fear. There was a legend that many years ago there was a yearly sacrifice made to the dragon spirit, by hurling a victim from the top of the tower to the dragon. The victims were young virgins on the threshold of womanhood. Could it be that it wasn't a legend at all? Could it be that such a practice still existed and that she was chosen for the sacrifice?

Le'. renewed her struggles, but she was subdued by a cloth held over her nose and mouth. She inhaled something with a strong, rather pleasant, but cloying scent. Then she felt her head spinning and everything went black.

When Le' opened her eyes a short time later, she found that, she was staked out on the floor. She was tied to four posts in the position of a sacrificial victim, with her arms and legs stretched out on a soft mattress of furs.

Two girls hovered over the mattress. Le' could tell that they were about her age or perhaps a year or so older. They wore masks of brilliant colors, so she was unable to identify either one of them. Their nude bodies had been bathed in oil, and they glistened like gold in the flickering light of the lamps.

"Why am I here?" Le' asked in a frightened voice. "Am I to be sacrificed to the dragon spirit?"

The girls didn't answer her. Instead one of them produced a glass flask of amber-colored oil, which glowed as it caught the reflection of the lantern.

"Why won't you answer?" Le' asked. "Am I to be sacrificed to the dragon spirit?"

The girls began silently applying the oil. It felt warm and sensual, and as their hands spread it over Le', her body seemed to glow like the lantern too. There was a warm, pleasurable sensation as her skin reacted to the soft touch of the young girls' probing fingers.

The masked girls gradually rubbed the oil over her arms, shoulders, stomach, and legs. Then one girl eased up to Le's small, but upturned, firm breasts, and the soft hand caused Le's nipples to harden quickly. Although she was still frightened, an involuntary moan of pleasure escaped from Le's lips. This feeling was intensified when the other girl moved her hand up to the inside of her thigh to the junction of her legs and spread the warm oil in that secret place which was now most sensitive.

Then, abruptly, the girls stopped, and they left the room, leaving Le' alone. Le' struggled again to free herself, but this time there seemed to be more than the ropes restraining her. The anointing by the girls had generated strange, frightening, but exciting sensations in her body. There was a vague sense of pleasure, but even stronger was a frustrated yearning she had never experienced before, a yearning she did not understand, and that kept her lying there waiting for something else, for something more. Her body had been awakened and now needed to be satisfied, though she didn't realize what she needed.

Another person entered the room. The person was covered with a brilliant red and yellow robe and crowned with a high-crested helmet of the same colors. The arm of the intruder was held crooked so that the folds of the robe covered the face. But Le' knew that it was a man, for the robe was open below his waist and she could see the fullness of his manhood.

"What is it?" Le' asked fearfully. "Who are you?"

The man suddenly threw the cape aside and Le screamed. He was wearing a large, grotesque, dragon's mask, with a mouth full of boar's teeth and red eyes staring out over a demonic nose.

But, frightening as the mask was, Le' was even more terrified of what protruded between the man's legs. It seemed to thrust out at her like a weapon, large, gleaming wickedly from the oils similar to those with which she had been anointed.

She watched in terror as he drew closer and closer. Finally he lowered himself over her until the mask was only inches from her face. She could hear his breathing and feel his hot breath on her, and then she sensed his swollen, rearing manhood was poised just above her.

"No," she pleaded. "No, please."

The man paid no attention. With one powerful lunge he drove himself into her. Le' felt a great, blinding stab of pain, and she cried out.

The masked man began to thrust in and out with a savage rhythm until, quite inexplicably, Le' felt a return of the intense sensations she had experienced earlier when the girls were anointing her. But this time her whole body was dominated by it. This was the mysterious something more she had yearned for.

But no! She would not let her body submit. She must resist such domination: she began struggling against him. She cried out again for him to stop. He ignored her, and the pace of his thrusts grew faster, and in spite of herself, she responded, moving with him, helping him to drive deeper and deeper inside her.

Le's body was actually taking him joyfully. But before she could attain the full satisfaction her body was seeking, the man above her let out a groan, gave a few faster, more frenzied thrusts, then stopped with an exclamation of pleasure. She wanted him to go on, but she somehow knew it was over. He slowly pulled free from her, then stood up and looked down at her for a second before turning to leave. Le's body was left aching for fulfillment, longing for release.

The man left and Le' was alone. She was not frightened, now, that she would be sacrificed to the dragon spirit. She knew that she was no longer a virgin. But was she to be left here? Was she to remain tied up all night?

As if to answer her, the two masked girls returned and took off their masks, revealing their identities. They were Khan and Lin, girls who had been her friends until the year before, when they had gone through Cholingteng.

"You!" Le' said with great relief. "But what is this?" The girls laughed. "You have been made a woman," one of them said.

"And as a woman, you must know a man," the other put in. "Did you enjoy it?"

The girls were untying Le' as they talked, and she sat up and began rubbing her wrists and ankles. She hadn't been tied tightly enough to stop circulation, but her struggles had caused the binding to cut into her skin.

"I don't know," Le' said. "I suppose I did, but I was frightened, as well."

"I know," Khan said. "You thought you were going to be sacrificed to the dragon spirit, didn't you?"

"Yes," Le' said.

Kahn laughed. "Every girl thinks this. That is why the legend is still told."

"You cannot tell the younger girls," Lin instructed, "I won't tell them," Le' promised

"Next year, it will be your time to help initiate them."

"And, now, you are ready for your lessons in womanhood," Kahn said..

"But I am already taking many lessons," Le' said. "What other lessons could there be?"

"You will see," Lin said, and she and Kahn looked at each other and laughed as if they were sharing a very important secret.

Le' was already taking many lessons, but at the onset of womanhood, she began taking many more. The priests and priestesses of Shan Tal were learning secrets which were known to very few. The rites and practices they learned were shrouded in mystery for fifty centuries, even from others in the same culture. They learned how to control the total resources of their minds, to use the major part of the brain that others never develop. They mastered the martial skill of choeng-te, an art more deadly than karate and more secret than kung fu. And now, Le' began to develop that power which Shan Tal recognized as mankind's most potent—sexual power. If a skillful woman knew exactly what she was doing, she could use sex to dominate any man.

Le' was taught the complete sexual makeup of both the male and the female body. She came to understand the neurology and physiology of the erogenous zones, along with the many secret stimulations of those parts of the body, known only to graduates of Shan Tal. Complex sexual techniques were developed, and Le' became a total sexual being.

Le' also learned to be at one with the universe, and how to read signs and omens in nature. She understood all the secrets of nature, and she understood nature's creatures, the animals.

One day after her lessons, while she lay in a meadow which was bursting forth with flowers of every hue and description, Le' sensed a great sexual energy. She opened her eyes—eyes which weren't dark brown like the others' in the temple but golden yellow, like the feathers of the golden hawk—and saw two golden hawks circling in the sky above her, not lazily but with power. One was male, the other female.

The male hawk suddenly made a dive at the female hawk. There was a flash of gold as the two birds became one, a frenzied beating of wings and the skilled symphony of sexual foreplay.

Le' closed her eyes and concentrated on the patterns forming in her mind. As she thought of the hawks, it was almost as if she became one with them. And when the hawks completed the mating—the joining of male and female—they spoke in the universal language of all living creatures. Le's mind bridged the gulf with the hawks, and, there, lying in the flower- strewn meadow, she suddenly knew and enjoyed the white heat of orgasm. In that instant, in a sudden cosmic insight, Le' realized that all life forms shared the same conscious energy pool of creation.

It was a lesson that all students of Shan Tal must learn, but one that could not be taught

# Chapter 10

SHAN TAL: Spring 1880

* * *

Smoke from burning joss sticks filled the air with a heavy, sweet aroma. On the smoothly tiled floor, Mata Wong sat cross-legged in meditation. There was no sound other than the resonant ringing of a gong from some far-off part of the grounds. Le' came in, walking silently on feet which had learned the trick of crossing the thinnest rice paper without tearing it. Quietly, she sat behind Mata Wong. She was troubled because of a decision she was going to have to make.

Le' wasn't certain how long she had been sitting in silence behind Mata Wong before the jumble and jangle of her thoughts stilled and a tranquility descended on her. She felt independent of time and space.

"When you arrived you were concerned about the decision you must make. Now your concerns are less bothersome to you, and you are finding peace."

The voice came from Mata Wong: though, as Le' was sitting on the floor behind the abbess and as the abbess did not make any move, the voice seemed to have come from an eidolon.

"This is true," Le said.

"You have decided not to take the vow." It was not a question, it was a statement Mata Wong knew of Le's decision, even though it was a decision at which Le' had just arrived.

"I feel that I cannot take the vow," Le' said, "for if my mother s commission should send me in one direction and my vow in another, I would know the battle of Kwin and Kwan in my heart. I would be a twoheaded dragon consuming itself."

"Though you have learned all the skills and knowledge of the priesthood, if you do not take the vow you will not be a Shan Tal priestess."

"I know this, and my heart is heavy," Le' said.

"I have given this matter much thought," Mata Wong said. "I think it is right that you do not take the vow."

"Then I must leave," Le' said.

"Yes," Mata Wong answered, and at that moment Le', who was born and raised in this place, realized that she was an outsider.

Le', silently, kowtowed from her position behind Mata Wong. Without turning around, Mata Wong bowed just as silently, while Le', respectfully, backed out of the room.

Le walked back across the grounds of Shan Tal toward her own room. She had spoken to no one of the decision she had to make, and yet now, inexplicably, everyone seemed to sense that she was leaving the order.

For the first time in her life, Le' saw the members of Shan Tal as outsiders see them. She saw the shield that protected the members from outside influences, and she realized that, as of this moment, she was an outside influence. It was an unusual feeling—a little like the feeling that occurs to one who steps out of a vehicle after a very long trip and sees it as others have been seeing it.

Le' did not feel anger at the others for excluding her, for she knew that this was as it should be. She did feel a sense of sadness at something passed, but that sadness was overcome by the sense of purpose she also felt, now that she could, at long last, obey her mother s final wishes.

Le was in her room only long enough to remove the letter from the small lacquered box. She walked back through the beautifully sculptured gardens of Shan Tal to the large gates which guarded the entrance. There, she stood silently as the gates were opened. Then she walked through them and, without looking back, started down the rocky path toward the village of Wulkang. She reached the village just before nightfall. Finding a place near a tree to rest, she opened the letter. Never, in the nineteen years of her life, had she read the words her mother had written, even though the letter had been in her possession all that time.

* * *

Le' Sing,

Like a dew drop awaits the opening of a lotus bud, this letter has waited for you. From beyond the ages I speak, and though my voice is but a whisper in time, it cries to be heard.

I am your mother, Le Sing, and I am gone now, like the red leaves of fall, the peach blossoms of spring, and the showers of summer. But your father lives on, like the drum roll of thunder in the sky. He lives with hurt I caused him.

Your father lives in a place called California. His name is Big Cat. I want you to go to California, find him, and tell him who you are. Here are three questions. If he can answer the questions correctly, then you will know he is your father.

1. What lies beyond the inner door of the golden pagoda? (Answer: The private prayer chambers.)

2. What secret do the jasmines of the garden hide? (Answer: A secret passageway from the garden.)

3.Who was Tsu? (Answer: Handmaiden to Pai.)

Once you know he is your father, tell him that I could not go with him, for even as we spoke the last time, my father had armed guards waiting to kill him if I tried.

Though I did not return with him in body, I did return in spirit, and my heart was full of love for him. This, I want him to know. Tell him also that Tsu was as a cherry blossom to the people.

My daughter, you have the skills and knowledge of Shan Tal. Use them to right the wrongs I have done so that my spirit may reside in peace.

* * *

Le' folded the letter and put it away. She leaned back against the tree to rest. Tomorrow she would get an early start and walk to California.

# Chapter 11

SAN FRANCISCO: 1880

* * *

The waterfront area of San Francisco teemed with humanity. Here was the ultimate meeting of East and West, for thousands of Chinese lived in San Francisco, having gone no further than a few blocks beyond the end of their ocean voyage.

So many Chinese had congregated in one small area that the area became known as Chinatown, and one could walk down the streets and see the signs and shops and believe that this was Canton or Shanghai, or some other Chinese city.

Le' had discovered by the end of her first day of walking that California could not be reached in one day, nor indeed by walking. When she finally reached Canton, she discovered that a ship would be leaving for California shortly, and she inquired about how passage might be secured. Passage was available, she was told, if she would sign an agreement to work for food and lodging until die passage was paid for. Le' agreed.

After a voyage across more water than Le' believed existed, she reached California. A stern-looking Chinese man was greeting the arriving passengers. He held up a sign, written in Chinese, instructing all those who were traveling on indentured passes to report to him. Dutifully, Le' did so.

"I am Le' Sing," she said.

"Wait," the Chinese man said, and Le' waited quietly until finally more than forty people—men, women, even children—stood in an obedient group.

A carriage drove by, pulled by matching black horses. The carriage was as fine a carriage as Le' had ever seen, and two white men were riding in the upholstered seat in the rear. Le' wondered if they were princes, for surely only a prince could afford such a conveyance.

"Driver, stop," one of the two men ordered, and the carriage stopped very near where Le' stood.

"Look at that girl," one of the men said, and Le', who had learned the English language in her studies, knew that they were talking about her.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" the other man said.

"She's that, all right. What I wouldn't give for her to warm my bed "

The second man laughed. "I'm certain Ka Soong will make the arrangements if you wish."

"I don't want to mess with that old Tong chief," the first man said. "He is a tiger."

A tiger? Le's interest was suddenly piqued. Perhaps here was a clue to the man she was looking for. Her father's name might be Tiger, for in ideograph, the name was expressed as the symbol for Big Cat. A tiger is a big cat.

The two white men laughed, and the carriage pulled away.

"So," the Chinese man who had gathered the passengers together said. "You have all chosen to leave China and come to America, have you? I tell you now to forget the stories you have heard about America. Here, gold is not found in streets, and honey does not flow like water. Here, you must work as you worked in China if you wish to eat. Now, come with me and you will meet Ka Soong."

"Who is Ka Soong?" someone asked.

"Is he a prince?" another asked.

The man who had greeted them laughed. "Yes" he said, "you can say he is a prince. He is a great Tong chief."

A small gasp of surprise and concern passed over the group, for they knew the Tong as a well-organized group of bandits, assassins, and terrorists. The average Chinese feared the Tong and made every effort to prevent his name from being learned by any member of the Tong. Now, the group of newcomers learned that they were to become associated with the bandits.

"Forget what you have heard before," the stem- looking Chinese man said. "Here, the Tong helps the Chinese people. Our enemy here is the white American."

"If the white man is our enemy, why have we come to America?" someone wanted to know.

"You may ask yourself that same question a thousand, thousand times before you die," the man said, laughing at his own joke.

The little group of immigrants followed him down the street, staying in a tightly knit bunch and looking around at the curious sights which greeted them. They were all able to read the signs well enough, and the conversations they passed by were being conducted in a language they could understand. They passed by kitchens, and the smells of cooking which assailed their nostrils were familiar smells. Yet, over everything, there was a subtle distortion, like life seen through a flawed glass, which made the entire experience a strange one. This was not Canton, it was San Francisco; though the people of San Francisco were of the same race and language, they were not the same. They were different from the people of mainland China, changed by distance and time and association with a new culture. That they had retained as much of their ancient ways as they had was a testimony to the determination of their efforts, but they had changed, and these new immigrants could sense it.

Oddly though, within a year these same immigrants would no longer be aware of the subtle differences, because they, too, would become one of them and their perspective would be altered so that they would not know.

The new immigrants were herded into a large building and taken to a room where they were told they would meet Ka Soong. They stood quietly until Ka Soong arrived. Ka Soong wore a long robe, made of yellow and red silk. He had chin whiskers and a long thin mustache. His fingernails were long and lacquered a dark brown, and he was smoking. He was not smoking a pipe, but something in a small brown cylinder. Le had never seen such a thing before, and she heard it referred to by someone as a "cigar."

"So, my friends," Ka Soong said, "I am glad you have come to America to seek your fortune. Perhaps I can help you find it." He laughed, and the immigrants laughed nervously with him.

"I am Chief of the Tong," he went on. "I will expect a small tribute from all of you, as indeed we extract a tribute from all Chinese here. In return for this tribute, you will receive the protection of the Tong."

The immigrants looked at each other nervously. "Of course, each of you owe me the money for your passage," he said. "And therefore for the first year, you shall work for no wages, but you will be fed and housed."

"But, what if we find jobs which pay very good wages?" someone asked. "Then we could more quickly repay our debt."

"You will work where I assign you," Ka Soong said. "And I will see to it that I am repaid. You need not worry."

"But I would prefer—" the immigrant started to say, only to have his complaint interrupted by the sudden and unexpected lash of a whip. From nowhere, it seemed, one of Ka Soong's henchmen appeared to snap his whip across the man's back.

"Ah, you see?" Ka Soong said, smiling as if nothing had happened. "It is not a good thing to complain. I am doing much good for you, and I do not like to hear comments which are negative to good order."

"Yes, Shih" the unfortunate man said, using the term of respect and dropping to his knees to kowtow before Ka Soong.

"Good, good, I am glad you understand," Ka Soong said. "Now, someone will pass among you, telling you where you will go to work."

"A thousand pardons, Excellency—" Le said quietly.

Ka Soong, who had already started to leave the room stopped and looked back toward Le'. One of the men who carried a whip also started toward her. Ka Soong, seeing the man approach with the whip, held his hand up to stop him.

"What is it, my lovely one?"

"I wish to speak with you," Le' said. "If is a matter of some delicacy."

Ka Soong, using the Chinese gesture of beckoning her forward by turning his hand palm down and making a short, downward motion with it, called her to him.

As soon as Le' approached him, she saw the look of sexual hunger in his eyes as he examined her. She knew that he wanted her, and she knew that by the use of sex, she could gain immediate control of him.

But she had heard him called Tiger. Could it be that he was her father? The letter had said only that her father lived in California. Le's features, other than slightly rounded and lightly colored eyes, were decidedly Oriental. Her father might be either an American or a Chinese living in America. She had no way to be certain.

"Come, little one," Ka Soong said. "We can be comfortable as we speak."

Le' followed Ka Soong out of the meeting room and through a long narrow hall, which led to the back of the building. The sickeningly sweet smell of burning opium permeated the hall, and as Le' passed by an open door, she looked inside. There, in a dimly lit room, she saw a wall lined with bunks. Men were lying in the bunks, smoking opium, oblivious to Le's passage—indeed, oblivious to everything except their own private world.

Ka Soong opened a door at the rear of the hall and beckoned Le' in.

Le' looked around in surprise when she entered the room. Never had she seen a room like this one. It was hung with the richest tapestries and equipped with the finest furniture. There were artifacts of gold and jade everywhere. It was the room of a very wealthy man.

"Do you live in such a fine place?" Le asked.

Ka Soong launghed. "No, my child, I don't live here. This is merely a room where I often entertain. He said the word entertain in a lustful way, and Le' knew that he meant that he brought women here for sexilal reasons. She knew also that he had brought her here for the same reason, but she was not worried.

"It is a beautiful room," Le' said.

"And you are a beautiful woman," Ka Soong said as he reached for her. Le' turned slightly, just enough to avoid his grasp, though with a movement of such subtle gracefulness that Ka Soong didn't realize what she had done.

"Shili," Le' said, "are you a tiger?"

"A tiger?" Ka Soong replied, puzzled by her question. Then he laughed uproariously. "A tiger, you say? Yes, I daresay I can be, if that is what you desire in bed."

"No, I do not mean in bed," Le' said.

"Then, what do you mean?"

"When I got off the ship, two white men came by in a carriage. They were talking, and they were speaking of you. One of them said you were a tiger."

"Perhaps he was making a joke," Ka Soong said. "Point him out to me the next time you see him, and I shall ensure that he jokes no more."

"Then you are not a tiger?" Le' said, and there was a note of disappointment in her voice.

"I think not," Ka Soong said. "But tell me, little one, why do you sound disappointed? And why do you have such interest in one who is a tiger?"

"I am looking for my father," Le' said.

"And you think I might be your father?" Ka Soong asked. "What gives you such an idea?"

"I have a letter from my mother," Le' said. "She has asked me to find my father, who lives in California. In the Mandrin calligraphy, the ideograph for my father's name is Big Cat."

"I see," Ka Soong said. "As there is no way to write the proper name in the Mandrin art of calligraphy, the word "Big Cat" is used as the symbol. Big Cat may not be his name at all."

"This, I know," Le' said. "That is why when I heard the man call you Tiger, I thought—"

Ka Soong laughed. "You thought I might be your father?"

"Yes, Shih," Le' said, bowing her head in respect. "I am sorry if the thought shames you."

"Shames me? No, it does not. You are a beautiful woman, and any man would be pleased to have you as his daughter. But it is obvious that your father is an American."

"I thought, perhaps, to my mother, you would be an American. Perhaps she meant someone who lived in America. I have always regarded myself as Chinese. My American blood was not obvious to me."

"When you spoke of your father with your mother, did she not describe him to you?" Ka Soong asked.

"I did not know my mother, Shih," Le' said. "She died, giving me life. The letter is all I have."

Crossing his arms and cupping his chin, Ka Soong looked at Le'. His long, lacquered fingernails fell across his cheeks, and he examined her with flashing dark eyes. During that moment Le' noticed a strange thing. The red light of lust had left his eyes to be replaced by a light most people who dealt with Ka Soong rarely saw. There was in Ka Soong's eyes, the light of compassion.

"You will work in Ma Mae's Laundry," he said.

"There you will see the names of many, and perhaps you will be able to find Big Cat."

"Thank you, Excellency," Le said, bowing slightly. Ka Soong laughed. "I brought you here for other reasons, young one. Now, leave quickly, before the idea returns.".

Le' bowed again, then backed out of the room as she heard him call a girl's name. She met the girl hurrying down to the room as she moved back through the hall to leave. The girl looked away in embarrassment as Le' passed her, and Le' knew that this girl would have to satisfy the lustful urgings which had developed in Ka Soong. As Le' passed the opium dens she looked in again and saw the same, unmoving figures. She had learned all about opium, though she had never tried it. It was an evil thing, and she wished it could be eliminated. Seeing this den helped balance what might have otherwise been a totally positive feeling toward the Tong chief.

When Le' returned to the big room, she saw that all the immigrants who had come to this meeting with her were gone. Only the Chinese man who had met them at the ship was still there.

"Please," Le' said quietly. "Would you tell me how to go to Ma Mae's laundry?"

"You are going to the laundry?" the man asked in surprise. "But I thought—"

Le' knew what he thought. He thought she was to be Ka Soong's mistress. "I am to work in the laundry," she said without elaboration.

"It is very near here," the man said. "Come with me and I will show you."

Le' followed a respectful distance behind, and within a few moments she was taken into a small building which was strong with the smell of soap and lye. There were more than a dozen men and women working, putting clothes in steaming tubs of soapy water and scrubbing them against a board of corrugated metal. Ma Mae, a small man with a long white beard, took her to an empty tub and directed that the young woman at the tub nearest her show her what to do. Le' listened attentively, and within a moment she was scrubbing away, taking pains to hide the tiny blue chrysanthemum which would identify her as one trained in Shan Tal. She did not want that known.

"Ah, you should not learn so quickly," a girl, whose name was Tsien, said. "Now you will be expected to work as much as the rest."

"I will do my share," Le' said.

Le toiled diligently for the next few weeks, and though she spoke only infrequently to the others, they learned to respect the beautiful young woman who worked uncomplainingly and was quick to offer help when help was requested. Tsien was the first to notice that Le seemed to keep her wrist covered at all times, and she thought it might be because Le' had a disfiguring scar there. Tsien also noticed that Le' very carefully examined every laundry mark of every piece of laundry. Finally Tsien's curiosity overcame her, and she asked Le' about it one day as they were delivering laundry.

"I am searching for someone," Le' said, and she explained the story of Big Cat. She did not tell Tsien about Shan Tal.

"You will never find him," Tsien said.

"Are there many Americans with the name of a Big Cat?" Le' asked.

"I have never heard of such a name," Tsien said. "But I have not met many Americans."

"Then perhaps there is an American with such a name that you have never heard," Le' suggested.

"Perhaps," Tsien said. "But even if you find him, I fear he will not acknowledge you. An American would not wish a Chinese for a daughter."

"Perhaps this is true," Le' said. "But this American loved my mother, and I must tell him that my mother returned his love."

"You have a hopeless task before you," Tsien said, but she made no further effort to dissuade the young girl, for she knew such an effort would be useless.

Tsien and Le' were able to talk so freely because delivering laundry got them away from the others for a short while.

Tsien had often made the deliveries, but this was Le's first time to do so, and Le' enjoyed the opportunity to get away from the smell and heat of the laundry room and enjoy a walk around the city. It was a difficult walk because they were carrying heavy baskets of clothes and the delivery route was one of several miles. But compared to the work in the laundry, it was a pleasure.

"So many Americans ride in carriages," Le' observed. "Do Americans not know how to walk?"

"Only the poor walk in America," Tsien said. "Oh, we nearly walked beyond this place. We must deliver some clothes here."

As the two young girls turned to go through the gate, they heard a low, menacing growl. Tsien stopped, frozen in fear. There, standing before them, were two large, viscious attack dogs, with fangs bared, his eyes reddened, and ears pulled back.

"How dare you come through my front gate," a man's voice called from the porch. "Servants should go to the rear. Now you must stay where you are or my dogs will attack."

"We . . . will . . . be . . . killed," Tsien said, barely able to squeeze the words through her tightened throat.

"Do not move or speak," Le' said quietly.

Le' began organizing her mind, forming the concentration of mental power she would need. She harnessed the energy, then projected it through her eyes at the two dogs. She held them with her gaze. They stood, growling quietly, as if unsure of themselves. Then the growls ceased. The dogs looked at Le' in confusion and quickly succumbed to the strange power of her gaze. They whimpered once, then lay on their stomachs with their heads on their paws, completely dominated by her.

Le' stared at them for a moment longer, then she reached over and put her hand on Tsien's arm and led her passed the two dogs, who were now completely sedated.

"What? What did you do to my dogs?" the man on the front porch shouted. "What did you do to them?"

The man's shout—so soon after the episode with the dogs—frightened Tsien, and she dropped her basket of clothes. Quickly, she picked the clothes-up and brushed them off as well as she could. Despite her efforts, some dirt remained.

Seeing the dirt on the clothes, the man began to shout and curse again. "First you insult me by coming through the wrong entrance, then you do something to my dogs, and, finally, you soil my clothes," he said.

"What is he saying?" Tsien, who spoke English poorly, asked.

"It is nothing," Le' said. "Do not be frightened. I will speak to him."

* * *

"Look at this!" the man shouted, pointing to the dirt. "Am I expected to pay good money for this? Which one of you did this? Which one of you soiled my clothes?"

"I am responsible," Le said. She did not consider the statement an outright lie. She believed that Tsien was still puzzled by the incident with the dogs, and she knew that she had helped add to that confusion.

"Well, what do you intend to do about it?" the irate customer shouted angrily. _

"Please, Sir, if you will allow me," Le' said, "I will stay and wash the clothes for you again."

"Stay? What do you think this is, a Chinese laundry?" the man asked gruffly.

"It seems like a fair enough offer to me, Gerald," another man said. Le' looked up to see that a second man had appeared in the doorway. The second man was an older man with a gentle look about him.

"It may seem reasonable to you," the one called Gerald said. "It isn't your shirt."

"I will buy it," the second man said easily.

"Buy it? What do you mean?"

"I mean I will buy it," the man said. He took a bill from his pocket. "Will you sell it for five dollars?"

"Five dollars? It only cost one dollar new," Gerald sputtered.

"Then you should hasten to avail yourself of this opportunity for profit," the man said.

Gerald took the money and stuck it in his pocket. "I will take your offer," he said. "Though I cannot understand why it was made."

"I have no wish to see these lovely young creatures subjected to your ire," the man said.

"They are Chinese," Gerald spat "They are lovely," the man said.

"Thank you for your help," Le said as she and Tsien turned to go.

"What is your name?9 the man asked.

"I am called Le'."

"Le', is it? It is a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. My name is Boykin Powers. How would you like to work for me?"

"I am sorry, Mister Powers," Le' said. "I cannot work for you. I am employed."

"Quit your job," Powers said. "You can't enjoy it that much."

"I cannot quit," Le' said.

"Oh, I see, that old scoundrel Ka Soong has you, eh? Well, Ka Soong owes me a great many favors. I shall visit with him and have you working for me. How would you like that?"

"It is not for me to say, Sir," Le' said. "I shall go wherever Ka Soong tells me to go until I am out of his debt."

"Good, good," Powers said. "That means you will be working for me soon—and your friend too, if she wishes."

"You are most kind," Le' said. She and Tsien bowed slightly, then, respectfully, made their withdrawal.

"Do you know who that is?" Tsien asked as they were leaving the house.

"Yes. His name is Boykin Powers," Le' said.

"Boykin Powers is a man with much, much money," Tsien said. "His wealth is one thousand, thousand times greater than the wealth of Ka Soong."

"He has asked us to work for him," Le' said.

Tsien smiled more broadly than Le' had ever seen her smile in the weeks she had known her. "He has asked both of us to work for him?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Tsien said, "oh, Le', it is the fulfillment of all my dreams. How wonderful it will be to work for such a wealthy man! How lucky we were today!"

"Yes," Le' said. Le' was less enthusiastic than Tsien because working for Boykin Powers meant she would no longer have access to all the laundry marks. She had thought she would eventually find her father by examining the laundry marks, but perhaps it was not meant to be. If she was meant to go with Mr. Boykin Powers, then she would do so, and she would do so without complaint. After all, one cannot alter the river of destiny.

# Chapter 12

Though Le' was prepared to walk from her small room in Chinatown to the home of Boykin Powers, she was in for a surprise. Even as she was packing her meager belongings, she heard Tsien calling to her.

"Le', oh, Le', come quickly. This you must see," Tsien called excitedly.

"What is it?" Le' asked.

"Come out front. You must see."

Le' followed the excited young girl out of the rooming house, and there she saw a handsome phaeton sitting in the street. A uniformed driver sat haughtily in the driver's seat, and Boykin Powers, resplendently dressed down to a diamond stickpin, sat in the rear. He smiled and tipped his hat when he saw Le' and Tsien.

"I have come for you," he said.

More than two dozen Chinese had gathered around the carriage, looking on with awe. They were speaking to each other in excited tones.

"Ay-ee, never have my eyes beheld such an elegant carriage."

"How is it that such a rich landowner would come for two Chinese girls?"

* * *

"It is said that Le' seeks her father. Perhaps this is the man."

Le' overheard all the conversations but she said nothing to the people. Instead, she and Tsien climbed into the carriage. The seat was wide and yielded comfortably as she sat upon it.

"All right, Mason, you may go now," Powers said, and the driver clucked to the horses. The carriage moved away, gliding effortlessly on the well-sprung wheels so that Le' thought they were riding on a cloud.

"I am honored," Le' said, "that you would come for us in so elegant a carriage. But, I am puzzled too. Why have you done this?"

"Because I wanted to," Powers said. He laughed. "My dear, one of the pleasures of being a wealthy man is that I can indulge my desires so frequently. I am getting old now, and it pleases me to be seen in the company of beautiful women."

"We are Chinese," Le' said.

"You are beautiful," Powers said. "Now, lean back and enjoy the ride while I enjoy looking at the two of you."

Tsien chattered like a magpie as the carriage rolled through the streets of San Francisco. Her incessant chapter was brought on by nervousness and excitement, but it served to point out Le's quiet nature by contrast, for Le' said nothing during the ride. She felt Boykin Powers's gaze and, in it, measured the man. She liked what she found.

Boykin Powers was a man of great virility and with a love for life. He was also a man of integrity and honesty. She knew that he found her very desirable sexually, and she also knew that he was trying to suppress that desire. What she did not know was why he was trying to suppress the desire. Certainly it was not from some prejudice. Le' smiled at him. If he wished to pursue his desire, she would allow him to do so, for she found him desirable as well—though he was much older than she, she knew that age was unimportant.

"The pleasures of a man for a woman and a woman for a man are not reserved just for handsome men and beautiful women? Mata Wong had explained. "There flows between all men and all women a river. As men and women begin their sexual cycles, they are on opposite sides of the river. But as they grow in knowledge, they come into the river until finally both are in mid-stream. It is when both are in mid-stream and the river of pleasure surrounds them both that sex is best. There are many things which can put men and women in the middle of this stream. One is the knowledge of all things sexual, such as that which is learned at Shan Tal. Another is well-spent years of unselfish feeling in a man or a woman of advanced age. The final and most exquisite way for a man and woman to share in the river of pleasure is to know love, but this is not to be for priests and priestesses of Shan Tal?

Le' knew that she could both give to and receive from Boykin Powers pleasure, but she knew, also, that he would not provide her with the opportunity. She waited to see why.

The phaeton took them to the top of Nob Hill, passing one of the cable cars that had made San Francisco known throughout the world. Then it moved through a large wrought-iron gate, around a curving tree-lined and beautifully landscaped drive, and stopped in front of a large, exceptionally handsome house.

"Be it ever so humble," Boykin quipped. "This is my home."

"It is truly beautiful," Le' said. Tsien looked at the house in speechless wonder. She had delivered laundry to many fine homes, but none so fine as this. "I thought you lived at the house with the dogs," Le' added.

Boykin laughed. "Why would you think that?"

"It was a fine house," Le said. "And big enough for many people."

"Well, this house is big enough for many people as well," Boykin said. "But I live here with only my son." Boykin climbed out of the carriage, then offered a hand to help Le' and Tsien down. "Come," he said, "we will go inside."

"But surely you wish us to use the servants' entrance?" Le' said.

"You may enter this house through any door you wish," Boykin said. "But for now, I wish you to come through the front door with me."

Boykin led the way up the broad steps and through the double doors into the house. A huge foyer greeted them, and a very wide stairway ascended to the second floor where a balcony overlooked the entryway. Le' was cognizant of polished marble floors, mahogany banisters, rich wall hangings, and a great collection of statuary. Paintings hung on the wall, climbing alongside the stairs. Servants seemed to materialize, then melt back into the house almost as if they were ghosts.

"There is an excellent view of the city from up here if you wish to see it," Boykin invited.

"Yes," Le' said. "Yes, I would like to see it."

Boykin led the way upstairs, then down a long hallway and out onto a huge balcony which ran the full length of the back of the house. The back lawn was exquisitely landscaped with boxed hedges forming geometric patterns and statues and fountains surrounded by beautiful flowers of every hue. The garden was nearly as lovely as the garden of Shan Tal. But the most breathtaking sight was of the city of San Francisco. She saw white houses clinging to green hills, and from this vantage point she could see the sparkling blue water of the Golden Gate as well,

"It is very beautiful," Le' said.

A woman appeared on the balcony, and Boykin turned to her. "Mrs. Mabry, would you please show this young lady to one of the empty servants' rooms?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," the woman answered. "This way, you two."

"No," Boykin said. "Only this one." He pointed to Tsien. "Le' will take the Rose Room."

"The Rose Room?" Mrs. Mabry asked with raised eyebrows. "Surely you—"

"Surely you don't intend to question me?" Boykin said, interrupting the woman's surprised reply.

"No, Sir, of course not," Mrs. Mabry said.

"Then kindly do as I ask."

"Yes, Sir."

Tsien looked on in confusion, but Le' explained the conversation to her, and she, happily, followed Mrs. Mabry to her room. "Your room is right down here," Boykin said. "Come, I will show you."

Le' followed Boykin back into the house and down r the hallway. The hallway itself was wide enough to accommodate two rooms in the building where she had been living. At last they halted before carved double doors.

When Boykin pushed them open to allow Le' to step into the bedroom she saw that it, like the rest of the house, was elegant beyond comparison. A large bay window bowed out, offering essentially the same view as was enjoyed from the balcony. The floor was covered in a very plush dark blue carpet The walls were white—carved panels, trimmed in blue and gold. The ceiling was vaulted and decorated with paintings of cherubs, birds, and flowers.

A large dresser with a huge mirror sat on one side of the room, flanked by other large pieces of bedroom furniture. There was a small dining area near the window, a roomy closet-dressing room opposite. A canopied bed dominated the room, and two servant girls stood beside it.

"These girls will take care of anything you might need," Boykin said.

Le' didn't understand. She thought she was to be a servant, and yet he had just assigned two servant girls to her. She wondered but did not question.

"You may leave now," Boykin said to the two girls, and they both left quietly.

Boykin walked over to look through the window for several moments. Both were quiet. Finally, he cleared his throat and turned to look at her. Le' saw the look of desire in his eyes again, and then she saw that, again, he quickly suppressed it.

"I suppose you are wondering about all this," he said.

"Yes."

"There is a purpose to my madness," he said. "But for the moment, I would rather not disclose what it is. I ask only that you accept my hospitality without question."

"If you wish," Le' said.

Boykin smiled broadly. "That is wonderful," he said. He pointed to the closet. "When I knew you were coming, I ordered some clothes delivered for you. I hope you like them. Now, I must go, but I will see you at dinner. Oh, there, behind the screen, you will find a bath tub with running water."

"Running water?" Le' asked. She was not familiar with the term.

Boykin smiled. "Come, I will show you," he said, and he crossed over to the tub and turned the handles. Water gushed from the spigot into the tub.

"Oh," Le' said, "that is truly wonderful."

Later, after a bath and toweling had left her body glowing and alive, Le' put on a yellow silk dressing gown. The silk clung to her body like a second skin, and examining herself in the mirror, she saw every curve and dip of her body. Her nipples protruded through the silk, forming two sharp points. Le' sat at the dressing table and examined the cosmetics available. She had learned the art of makeup application and now went about her toilette, turning an already, lovely face into one which was breathtakingly beautiful.

Afterward, she began to brush her hair with long luxurious strokes of the brush. Within a short time her hair took on the sheen of burnished ebony; its jet-blackness, her golden skin, and the pale yellow silk of the dressing gown created a picture of loveliness.

The door opened and closed, and Le' looked in the mirror to see a young man standing just inside the room. He was a very handsome man, with smoothly combed dark hair and dark, brooding eyes. He had a pencil-thin mustache and wore in his face a slightly jaded look, the look of one who indulges his every whim.

"My God," he said softly, "who are you?"

"I am called Le'," Le' said.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mister Powers said this is to be my room," Le said.

"Mister Pow—" the man said, then quite unexpectedly began to laugh. "Mister Powers? You mean my father?"

"His name is Boykin Powers," Le' said.

"Yes, Boykin Powers, that's him," the young man said. He laughed again. "Well, I'll be damned. I didn't know the old man had it in him. A mistress, by God. He's gone and taken himself a mistress." The young man walked around the room, carefully examining the girl. From his eyes, Le' received an unmistakable message of lust—a lust which the young man did little to control. "Yes, sir, he's got himself a mistress and a Chinese mistress, at that. But I'll have to give him credit. You are without doubt the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

There was a knock at the door, and the young man, who had completed his circling examination of Le' and was now near the door once again, opened it. "Come in," he said. "By all means, come in. Come in and look at what I have found."

Boykin Powers was on the other side of the door, and he looked a little surprised to see his son.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"I knew of no reason why I shouldn't be in here," the man said. "You didn't tell me about this lovely creature. Who is she?"

"Her name is Le'."

"I know that—she told me as much," the young man said.

Boykin sighed. "Le', this is my son, Jason," he said. "I had hoped to introduce you at dinner tonight, but I see he has altered my plans."

"Dinner tonight, you say?" Jason said. "Were you truly going to introduce me, Father, or were you going to keep this lovely creature for yourself?"

"I don't understand," Boykin said. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come now," Jason said. "I may be your son, but I'm not your little boy. Why would anyone keep such a lovely thing secret?"

"Oh," Boykin said. "I'm afraid you have it all wrong. Le' is an employee."

"An employee? A house servant?"

"No, not a house servant," Boykin said. "She is going to act as hostess for this house. With your mother dead and you showing no disposition to settle down and take a wife, this house is badly in need of a woman's touch. Le' is going to be that woman."

"You are going to use a Chinese woman as a hostess?" Jason asked, as if unable to believe his father.

"Why not?" Boykin asked. "Who can be more gracious than an Oriental? And what quality other than grace does a successful hostess need?"

"Perhaps an ability to speak and understand the language," Jason suggested.

"She speaks English as well as you do," Boykin said. Jason looked at Le'. He looked for one long, lustful moment, then he let out a short laugh. "Who am I to question you?" he asked. "For my part, it would be worth it just to have such a lovely creature to look at."

"I am glad she meets with your approval," Boykin said in a tone of voice which made it obvious that he didn't care whether Jason approved or not. "Now, if you and I will leave, she might be able to dress in time to join us for dinner."

Boykin smiled at Le', who in turn bowed slightly, then Boykin and Jason left the bedroom so Le' could dress for dinner.

When Le' stepped into the dining room later, she saw that Boykin and Jason were dressed in formal attire. They stood as one of the servants held a chair out for her and she bowed slightly and took her seat.

"As a special treat for you, my dear," Boykin said, "I've had Tsien prepare a Chinese dinner for us. I hope you are pleased."

"The effort is as gratifying as the deed," Le' said.

A moment later a parade of servants began bringing in trays of food, and Tsien, also wearing a new dress, smiled broadly as she supervised.

"I hope my humble efforts have pleased you, My Mistress," Tsien said.

"Why do you call me your mistress?" Le' asked. They were speaking in Chinese and thus were able to speak freely.

"I am told that you are so, and I see that this is so," Tsien said. "And I am truly glad, for never would such a wonderful thing have happened to me without you."

Tsien came to Le's chair and started to serve her. Then she saw on Le's wrist that which Le' had always taken pain to hide before. She saw the tiny, blue chrysanthemum.

"Oh," Tsien said and quickly set the dish she was carrying on the table and dropped to her knees. She bent low, touching her head to the floor. "Now I know why you could work such magic with the dogs. You are a priestess of Shan Tal."

"What is it?" Boykin asked. "Why is the girl Bowing to you so?"

"She is impressed with my status," Le' said, wording it in such a way that Boykin4 would think she meant the status within the house.

"Oh, to think you once washed clothes as a peasant," Tsien said.

"There is only honor in honest work," Le' said. "Please, do not kowtow before me."

"But you are a priestess," Tsien said.

"No, I am not," Le' said. "I took no vows."

"But the chrysanthemum."

"It was placed there at my birth," Le' said. "For I was born in the temple of Shan Tal."

"Then you are a priestess," Tsien said. "It matters not that you took no vow. I will be your servant forever."

"If you would serve me, you will not speak of this to anyone," Le' said. "And you will make no action which would betray me."

"I will do as you ask," Tsien said. She looked nervously at the others in the room. "But if they see the chrysanthemum?"

"They will not know the meaning of the chrysanthemum."

"Then I shall honor your wishes, but serve you secretly," Tsien said. She stood up, finished supervising the serving, then withdrew from the room.

Le enjoyed the meal, and took pains to show the others how to use chopsticks. Boykin gave up after a few tries, but Jason continued trying until he caught the knack of it. Perhaps his persistence was brought about because he enjoyed the feel of Le's hand on his as she was instructing him.

"Well," Jason finally said, "I have now mastered the use of the chopsticks. Wait until I show that big dumb Irishman this."

"Are you talking about Mike?" Boykin asked.

"Yes, I'm talking about Mike," Jason said. "He's always taking his lunch with the Chinese workers, jabbering with them and eating with them. He uses chopsticks as well as they do. But I'll show him." Boykin laughed. "You have been jealous of Mike ever since I hired him, Son, and you've no reason to be."

"I'm not jealous of him," Jason said. "But I think you have given him too much authority with the mines. Like the business of buying more shoring timber for the Number Eight Mine. Do you have any idea how much money that costs?"

"The shafts have to be shored, Jason," Boykin said. "Without shoring there is always danger of cave-in, you know that."

"I'm for minimizing the danger as much as the next man," Jason said, "but if we let Mike have his way, he would build grand hallways through the mountains. Yes, and likely he would light them with chandeliers too. That's why I canceled his last order."

"What's that? You canceled his last order, you say? By what authority?"

"By my own authority," Jason said petulantly. "After all, Father, I should certainly have as much authority to cancel orders as Mike has to place them." Boykin sighed. "Very well, Son, I shall abide by your decision. But be certain you make such decisions in the exercise of good judgment and not merely to show your authority. I would rather err on the side of safety than on the side of economy."

"The mines are safe enough," Jason insisted.

"I hope so," Boykin said. "I would not want another Lucky Lady disaster on our hands."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he looked at the table in silence for a long moment. "I thought you weren't going to mention that anymore," he said.

I'm sorry," Boykin said. "But I mention it for only one reason, Son. From all tragedy there must be some positive result If from the Lucky Lady cave-in you have learned a lesson in caution, then it is worth bringing up painful memories in order to ensure that the lesson is well learned."

Jason stood up and threw his napkin at the table before him. He looked at his father with eyes which were snapping in anger. He pointed at his father.

"Mike let that cave-in happen as surely as I did," he said. "He knew the danger there, he could have warned me. Instead, he let me go on, hoping I would prove to be the fool."

"He tried to stop you," Boykin said.

"Well, he didn't try hard enough. And now he has me right where he wants me. You will be suspicious of my ability, and everyone will question my authority from now on."

"That isn't true, Jason," Boykin said. "It simply isn't true."

"The hell it isn't true," Jason said. "The hell it isn't." He turned and left the dining room with quick, angry strides. Le' had sat through the outburst in silence, and now she remained silent as Boykin sat at the far end of the table pinching the bridge of his nose in quiet contemplation. Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that outburst," he said.

"It is I who should apologize," Le' said. "I am the intruder."

"No," Boykin said. "No, you aren't the intruder at all." He took a deep breath, as does one about to jump into an icy stream. "In fact, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you what I really want with you."

"Yes?" Le' asked.

"I want you to marry my son," Boykin said.

"You wish me to marry him?" Le' replied, shocked by his unexpected request.

"Yes. Think about it, Le. If you marry my son, you will be marrying into a most substantial fortune. Enough to make most women jump at such a chance."

"I am not such a woman," Le' said.

"I know you aren't," Boykin said. "And, believe me, I wouldn't make this offer to such a woman—or to any other woman, for that matter. But there is a rare quality about you that I can't put my finger on. There is something about you, something which anyone with discernment can see. I saw the way you handled those dogs of Gerald's. Gerald prides himself on being the only one on earth those two beasts will obey, but you had them eating out of your hand, and without saying a word to them. That is something I cannot understand, though I can recognize. I feel you would be a very good influence on my son. He comes from good stock, Le', but I have seen good apples go bad. You could keep him from going bad. What's more important, you could be an exceptional mother for my grandson."

"But I am Chinese."

"You are only one-half Chinese," Boykin said. "Hell, anyone can see that. Your father was an American."

"You . . . you know my father?" Le' asked, surprised by his statement.

"Know him? No, but I am right, am I not?"

"Yes," Le' said. "My father is an American. I have come to America to find him."

"You mean you don't know where he is?"

"No."

"I will help you find your father," Boykin said. "I am a very wealthy man, Le', as you can plainly see. I will use my money to help you find your father if you will marry my son."

Le' felt an obligation to Boykin and an obligation to carry out her mother s wish that she find her father. She knew that many marriages were arranged by parents—perhaps. in a strange way her parents had arranged this marriage for her.

"I will marry your son," she said.

# Chapter 13

Zigzagging trestles for ore cars made a filigree on the face of Mount Penelope above the Number Eight Mill. Wisps of steam feathered out of the vents of the mill, and two large plumes of black smoke boiled from the high smokestacks.

A small shack, halfway between the mill and the mine entrance, bore a large, hand-painted sign proclaiming it to be the superintendent's office. Inside, the superintendent of Powers Mining operations, Mike Kelly, a large-boned, red-headed Irishman, looked through the operating books.

At six feet four, Mike towered over most men; among the Chinese members of his crew, he was a giant. He was a giant in more than one way, though— he was a giant in the way he treated them, as human beings rather than as mere dray animals.

Nearly one-third of the mining crew which worked for Mike at the various mines were Chinese. Mike liked working with them. They were good with explosives and handled the "giant powder," miners' term for dynamite, with unequaled expertise. They put in an honest day of work, and there was little drunkenness among them.

In the superintendent's office with Mike Kelly was Carl Hobbs, principal bookkeeper for Powers Mining.

"Carl, what is this?" Mike asked, finding something in the book which disturbed him.

Carl was a small, bald-headed man, as small as the smallest Chinese worker. But he was good with figures and had earned his position in the company; his size was of no handicap to him. Carl walked over and stood behind Mike. He pulled a pair of steel-rimmed glasses from his pocket and put them on, affixing them to one ear at a time, then peered down at the ledger.

"Oh, that, Sir," Carl said, "that is a corrected entry for funds which were to have been used for purchasing shoring timbers. As the purchases weren't made, the funds were returned to the account."

"What do you mean the purchases weren't made?" Mike asked. "I ordered enough new timbers to shore up the entire offshoot shaft."

"I have a note on that somewhere, I believe," Carl said, returning to his own desk. It was a large, roll-top desk with dozens of pigeon holes, and each pigeon hole was stuffed with paper. Carl rifled through the papers until he found what he was looking for. He smiled. "Ah, yes, here it is," he said. He cleared his throat and read aloud: "Order 10-5-80-3 . . . uh . . . that's the third order placed on the fifth of October, 1880," he explained.

"I know what it means," Mike said irritably. "But I don't know why it was canceled."

"Of course, you know what it means, Sir," Carl said. "It is just that I am so used to dealing with inspectors and the like, for whom it is necessary for me to explain every little thing, that—"

"Carl," Mike asked in growing frustration, "why the hell were the timbers canceled?"

"Well, because Mister Powers canceled them, Sir," Carl explained, clearing himself of any wrongdoing. "Boykin Powers canceled those orders?"

"Not Boykin Powers, Sir," Carl said. "It was his son, Jason, who canceled them."

"Jason," Mike said with a snort of disgust. "I should have guessed as much. Well, we will just reorder them, that's all. In the meantime, I'll pass along the word that there will be no blasting in the offshoot until-"

"Oh, Sir, oh, my goodness," Carl said, putting his hand to his cheek. "Oh, I forgot, but while you were down in the mill Fow Chang came by. He's gone into the offshoot to blast."

"Damn!" Mike swore. He stood up so fast that his chair tumbled over as he started for the door of the superintendent's shack. Just as he got outside, he heard the blasting call being carried from man to man.

"Fire in the hole!"

"Fire in the hole!"

"Fire in the hole!"

"It's too late!" Mike called back, and he started toward the mouth of the mine shaft in a dead run.

There was a low, hollow thump, and Mike could feel the ground shake. Smoke and dust poured out of the mouth of the mine shaft, but the amount was consistent with a normal shot. Had there been a collapse the noise would have been much greater, and there would have been a lot more dust.

Mike breathed a sigh of relief and rested his hand on one of the support beams for the ore car trestle. They got away with it this time, but he made a mental note to tell Fow Chang to do no more blasting until new support timbers were in place.

Mike had started back to the superintendent's shack when he heard the first faint calls. As the calls were repeated, he heard clearly what was wrong, and his blood ran cold.

"Missed shot!" a minor said, and the call was repeated until everyone stopped and looked toward the mine opening with apprehension.

Now Mike turned and started back for the mine opening, thinking about the missed shot and planning what to do about it.

When cutting a tunnel, the miners ordinarily used a pattern of seven holes and charges. In the center of the face to be blasted they drilled three holes about two feet apart, arranged in a triangle and angled to meet at the apex of a pyramid within the rock. Then they drilled a "reliever" hole at the top of the face, "edger" holes at each side, and a 'lifter" at the bottom. With proper timing the center charges exploded first, making a cavity into which the slightly later blasts from top and sides squeezed the surrounding rock. Finally the lifter blew the rubble out into the tunnel, where it could be mucked into hopper cars.

Occasionally one of a group of charges would fail to explode, creating a problem. The unexploded charge could be located easily—it would be in a mound of rock protruding from the face—but it had to be removed with great care, usually by someone who dug around it with a pick. That was the missed shot, and that was what faced Mike now.

By the time Mike reached the mouth of the mine, most of the crew was there, standing around looking back down the tunnel.

"Did you hear, Boss?" one of the miners asked.

"Yeah," Mike answered. "I heard" He looked around for Fow Chang. "Where is Fow Chang?"

"He's already gone back to pick out the shot," someone answered.

"He better pick it out with chopsticks," Mike said grimly. "This shaft could collapse at a moment's notice. The new timbers haven't been set. We're lucky it didn't go down with the blast."

Suddenly there was a low rumble and a cloud of dust gushed up from the tunnel.

"Cave-in!" one of the miners shouted, starting a panic among all the miners, who began running from the mine mouth.

Mike also felt an urge to run, for a mine collapse was the most terrifying of all dangers facing a miner. But he checked his fear and stood fast at the mouth of the mine.

It couldn't have been a total collapse, he knew. There wasn't enough dust for that. Also a total collapse would have sent a blast of air coming out, like a giant air bellow. But something had fallen, that was for certain.

Gradually the miners who had run began to reach the same conclusion as Mike had. In groups of twos and threes, they began drifting back to the mouth of the mine.

"What do you think happened?"

"You think ol' Fow Chang set off the charge?"

"Naw, it would have been louder than that."

"Why doesn't he come out and let us know something?"

"Give me your carbide lamp," Mike said to one of the miners.

"You goin' down in there, Boss?"

"Yes," Mike said.

"What for?"

"Something happened," Mike said. "There might have been a partial cave-in—Fow Chang may be trapped."

"You sure as hell wouldn't catch me goin' down there for no Chinaman," one of the miners said. Mike turned and looked at him with an angry glare.

"No, I don't suppose I would," Mike said. "But then, you won't be going down in this mine for any reason at all. Stop by and see Hobbs and pick up your pay. You're fired."

"Suits me," the miner said. "They's too damn many Chinamen workin' here anyway. Iffen I'm gonna die in a mine, I got a right to die with them of my own kind."

Mike took the carbide lamp and started down the, mine shaft. He shouldn't have fired the miner just for speaking his thoughts. When he got out, he would send somone to the miner with an apology and an offer to come back to work—that is, if he got out.

The light from the mine entrance was completely gone now, and Mike's only source of illumination came from the carbide lamp he carried. The light was a bright white light, and it lit up the rocky floor, walls, and ceiling of the mine in harsh white and stark black, with no shades of gray to soften the scene.

Mike had spent his time in the mine as a mucker, then as a double-jack man, before Boykin Powers realized that he was even more valuable above the ground..

There had been many turns in his life, taking him from the decks of a clipper ship as a cabin boy to a mail-circuit rider and finally into the mines. His work in the mines was to have been part-time work just as the other jobs had been. He would work for a while, then when the itch to travel hit him, he would leave and go somewhere else.

But Mike had become fascinated with mining. In the first year he worked, the mine took out 350,000 dollars' worth of gold, and the mother lode wasn't even found. The mother lode, that mystical—some even said mythical—vein of gold, a yard high, fifty feet deep, and a mile long, from which sprung all the gold thus far found was here, somewhere in these mountains, and someone was going to find it.

Mike wasn't just earning a living at mining. He was studying it, learning every phase of the operation. And he was saving his money, too, so that at some future date—in the not-too-distant future, at that—he would go off on his own.

The air was close in this part of the mine, so thick that even the light seemed to have difficulty getting through. Some of the timbers showed stress fractures. It was from this point on that Mike had intended to put up new timber to provide additional support for the shoring already in place.

Ahead, Mike saw one beam completely broken in two and hanging down, not blocking off the shaft entirely, but creating an obstruction which made transit difficult. Mike put his hand on that shaft before stepping through, and rocks and dust began to fall. He jumped back in alarm and watched a few rocks and some dirt fall. The timber creaked and shifted so that the point created by the fracture stabbed into the floor of the shaft. The pressure on the timber was great enough that the point quickly broke off and the timber was driven tightly down. But that action also served to stabilize the shaft; the rocks stopped falling, and the timber stopped creaking.

Mike stepped through gingerly and went deeper into the shaft.

"Fow Chang," he called. "Fow Chang, can you hear me?"

"I am here," Fow Chang called, and Mike could tell from the strain in Fow Chang's voice that he was hurt.

"Fow Chang, I'm coming," Mike said.

"No," Fow Chang replied. "You must not come. The dynamite, it may go off."

Mike hurried on despite Fow Chang's warning, then he saw the old Chinaman. Fow Chang was in his sixties, too old to do any of the physical labor, but as skilled with the art of blasting as anyone Mike had ever known.

But now Fow Chang was on his back on the floor of the mine, and a large timber was across his legs. One leg was grotesquely bent, and Mike wondered how Fow Chang was able to avoid screaming out in pain.

"I'm going to move this timber and get you out of here," Mike said.

"No!" Fow Chang said. "Look." He pointed to the rock face: the mound of rock indicating the missed charge was clearly visible. Mike saw what Fow Chang was concerned about—the blasting cap which would set off the stick of dynamite was being subjected to an increasing amount of pressure from a rock fisure. It was literally a time bomb unless it could be picked out.

"Damn!" Mike said. He reached for Fow Chants pickax and started toward it

"No!" Fow Chang called as Mike started to strike the rock wall.

"I've got to get it out of there, Fow Chang," Mike called back over his shoulder.

"Do not strike the wall there," Fow Chang said. "Strike it below."

Mike looked back at the wall. Why would Fow Chang want him to strike it below the charge, he wondered. The he saw why. If he had hit the wall where he had started to, it would have eventually relieved the pressure, but in the meantime it might well have jarred the cap into an explosion. By hitting below the charge as Fow Chang directed, he would be able to relieve the pressure by removing the squeezing effect the other rock was having on the blasting cap, and there would be less chance of setting off the explosion.

Less chance, yes, but still a chance.

Mike remembered an incident which had happened just a year earlier over in Colorado Mine. The incident had made the papers, and Mike cut out the column and posted it on the wall of the superintendent shack for all the powder men to read. He hoped it would make them more careful. Mike had read it many times, and now the words of the article came vividly to mind.

Another name has been added to the long list of victims of that dangerous but unavoidable work of picking out blast holes that miss fire, Frank Benjamin, a highly esteemed citizen of Golden who has been working in the Shenandoah Valley Tunnel, Red Elephant Mountain, was found dead in the tunnel on Tuesday afternoon. Benjamin was working alone in the breast of the tunnel Prior to going to work on Monday afternoon, he told a fellow miner that he had a missed shot to pick out. He was last seen alive at half past three. The deceased leaves a wife and child at Golden. Mrs. Benjamin was engaged in giving a music lesson when the sad news reached her. Her sudden plunge into sorrow is said to have been most pitiable.

At least Mike had no family to leave behind. If the shot went, there would be no one to weep for him. Mike took some comfort in that, though not enough to give him total non-concern.

Mike slammed the pick against the stone, and it rang loudly in the close quarters. He hit again and again, and the rock began tumbling down until finally he had created a rather substantial cavity below the charge.

"All right, Fow Chang," Mike said, leaning on the pick with one hand and wiping the sweat away from his eyes with the other. "What do I do next, just pull it out?"

"Yes," Fow Chang said. "But you must pull gently."

Mike reached for the dynamite stick and began pulling. It didn't come easily, but he was afraid to force it. He worked at it for several moments, breathing heavily, not only from the exertion but from the anxiety of the moment. Sweat poured down his forehead and into his eyes, burning them, but he continued to work with the stick.

Suddenly the rock face above the stick started sliding down in one huge flake! Mike took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jerked the stick out of the hole just as the entire wall collapsed.

It took Mike a second to realize that he had done it. He stood there, holding the stick of dynamite in his hands and looking at the pile of rubble on the floor. Then, when he realized that the danger of an explosion was over, he let out a whoop of joy.

"Fow Chang, we did it!" he shouted. He turned to smile broadly at the Chinaman, then saw that the old man had passed out.

"My God," Mike said. "No wonder you've passed out. It's a wonder you stayed conscious long enough to tell me what to do."

Mike knew that Fow Chang couldn't hear him, but it comforted him to hear his own words, for, in truth, they weren't out of danger yet There was still the possibility of a total collapse of the mine.

Mike lifted the timber off Fow Chang's legs, moving it delicately, not only to avoid inducing further pain to Fow Chang but also to preclude the possibility of precipitating another cave-in. Then, when the timber was moved, he picked Fow Chang up. Carrying him in his arms, as one would a baby, he started back out of the mine.

Mike hurried back through the mine shaft, moving as quickly as he dared under the circumstances. All around him, he could hear the creaks and groans of the timbers as they bore up under the crushing weight of the mountain. Rocks and dirt fell like rain from the ceiling of the shaft It was difficult to get back through the obstructed part of the shaft while carrying Fow Chang, but Mike managed to do it. Then, as he got closer to the mouth where the shaft began to widen somewhat, he started moving faster and faster until, finally, he was running. When he made the last turn and saw the light shining from the mouth, he wanted to shout with elation.

"Here he comes!" someone called from the crowd which had gathered.

Suddenly the creaks and groans turned into a rumble, far off and growling. Then the rumble grew louder and louder, becoming a roar and finally a full- fledged thunder. The mine began to cave in.

"Hurry, Mike! Hurry! My God, it's going!" someone shouted.

Mike ran as fast as he could. How ironic, he thought, that he should be almost to the mouth just as the entire mine shaft caved in.

Those miners who had been waiting at the mouth of the mine started running when they heard the rumble which preceded the total collapse. They looked back and saw the smoke and dust coming out of the mine and heard and felt the roar of the wind as it gushed out. A huge cloud arose, obstructing everything, and everyone watched with bated breath.

"There they are!" someone shouted, then the others saw as well. Still carrying Fow Chang and now covered with a fine white powder of dust so that his red hair was as white as snow, Mike came running out of the cloud.

Everyone cheered, for the danger was over at last. They ran to Mike to take Fow Chang off his hands and to offer him their congratulations.

"Thanks," Mike said, breathing heavily from exertion.

Someone handed Mike a damp doth, and he began wiping the white powder away from his face. Then he saw who had handed him that cloth. Though covered by dirt, the anger that registered in his face was dearly discernible.

"Well, so you are a bona fide hero," Jason Powers said, standing before him and grinning broadly.

"Jason, what the hdl did you mean by canceling my timber order?" Mike asked.

"I canceled it because 1 didn't see a need for wasting the money."

"Wasting the money? Don't you realize what just happened here? We could have killed an entire crew."

"Yes, well, the point is we didn't," Jason said. "And we didn't because the timbers which were already in place were adequate to do the job."

"Adequate to do the job?" Mike said. He pointed to the rubble around the open mouth of the mine. A cloud of dust still hung over it. "Just what the hell do you call that?"

"I call that a cave-in," Jason said. "But it is obvious that a cave-in of such proportions as occurred here would have occurred at any rate. And the timbers in place were enough to delay it so that everyone got out safely."

"Yeah?" Mike said. "Well, I wonder how you would have felt if you had been in my shoes?"

"I think I would be thankful to be alive," Jason said, "and not wasting my breath by making rash accusations. Now, I must take the news of this to my father. I'm sure he will want to know when you plan to reopen the mine."

Jason turned and walked back down to the carriage while Mike stared after him with barely controlled anger. Then Mike saw something which took the anger—and his breath—away. There was a girl in the carriage with Jason, a Chinese girl. And she was, without doubt, the most beautiful creature Mike had ever seen in his life.

# Chapter 14

Le' had accepted Boyldn's proposal that she marry his son. To further realize Boykin's ambition, she began keeping company with Jason. Jason Powers had no idea of the plan Le' and his father had hatched, but he was willing enough to be seen in the company of such a beautiful woman, even though she happened to be half Chinese.

As yet there had been no sex between Le' and Jason—by Le's design. She was willing to have sex with Jason, but she knew that if she appeared to be too willing, Jason might be less eager to marry her, might figure that he could have his cake and eat it, too.

If Le's approach to the situation was quite clinical, it was because her entire approach to the marriage was clinical. She agreed to marry Jason out of a sense of obligation to Boykin and because marriage was the price Boykin was extracting from her to help her find her father. Besides, much of her training had been oriented toward using sex as a means—a means of control in some cases, a means of relaxation in others—so that it was but one more weapon in her arsenal.

But Le' was puzzled.

She wasn't puzzled by Jason or Boykin nor even by the development of her relationship with Jason. Her confusion was caused by someone totally outside the scheme of things. It was Mike Kelly who raised questions in her mind.

Mike Kelly was the big, red-headed man she had seen at the mine. He was also the man Jason had spoken of during that first dinner she had shared with the Powers. Le' knew that, for some reason, Jason didn't like Mike Kelly. As Le' sat in the carriage that afternoon and looked at Mike Kelly she felt something unlike anything she had ever felt before. She felt an immediate attraction to him.

Sex for Le' was a natural thing. In the cloister during her training, she had learned that sex was communication on the deepest and most personal plane, that it was the most intimate sharing possible by two people. Le' had enjoyed sex, not only for the power it gave her but for the pleasures it afforded. And yet never, for all her experiences and training, had she realized such a quick-building heat just from a person's glance until she saw Mike Kelly. Mike's eyes upon here were as arousing as the foreplay of the most skilled lover.

How could that be? She had no experience in such a thing, so this was all totally beyond her comprehension.

It had been nearly one week since Le' had seen Mike Kelly, and yet the image of the man, even though he was covered with dust from the mine cave- in, stayed with her. She could see the wide shoulders of his body, the muscles in his arms, the virile strength of his chest, and the challenge in his eyes as clearly now as she had on the day she had ridden out to Mine Number Eight with Jason.

The fact that Le' was having trouble controlling her thoughts was also new to her. Her entire life had been one of order and form; such a problem had never before come up. In order to keep the unwanted thoughts of Mike Kelly from creeping into her mind, Le' busied herself by acting as hostess to the Power's guests. In this role, too, Le' realized that she would be able to look for her father. Though she had planned to do so subtly, Boykin felt no such restraints.

Le' left her bedroom and joined Boykin and a guest downstairs. Boykin introduced his visitor to her and, typically, brought up the subject of her father at once. "This is Captain Fred Gates, Le'. In his day he made many trips to China. Perhaps he knows your father." Captain Gates was a man in his fifties with snow-white hair and a white beard. He took a sip of brandy as he looked at Le' with an appreciation for her beauty, to which no man, regardless of age or station, was immune.

"Perhaps I do," Captain Gates said. "Who is your father?"

"It is with shame that I must say I do not know," Le' replied.

Captain Gates looked at Boykin. "Boykin, how the blazes am I expected to know the girl's father if she doesn't know him herself?" he asked.

Boykin laughed. "What I mean, Fred, is perhaps you can help us find him."

"Hmm," Gates said, pulling at his beard. He looked at Le' and squinted his eyes. "I'd put you somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two, Am I right?"

"My age as determined by Americans, would be twenty," Le' said.

"Well, then, who can I remember from twenty years ago? Where were you born?"

"Wulkang."

"Wulkang? I'm afraid I don't know the port, girl," Captain Gates said.

Le' smiled. "Wulkang is a mountain village," Le' said. "I was conceived in Canton."

Captain Gates coughed in embarrassment, and his cheeks pinkened. He was not accustomed to hearing a young girl speak so frankly, and mention of the word conceived shocked him.

"Is something wrong?" Le' asked innocently.

"No," Boykin said, laughing in appreciation. In the short time Le had been in the Powers's household, he had come to expect such honesty and he greatly appreciated it. "Nothing is wrong child. Come, now, Captain Gates, what is wrong with the girl telling you where she was conceived? After all, do you think Chinese babies are found under cabbage leaves?"

"Well, no, of course not," Gates sputtered. "It's just that—"

"It's just that the girl gave you the information you need to know. Her father didn't have to be present when she was born in Wulkang, but he damned sure had to be around when she was conceived in Canton. Now, twenty years ago, that would be 1860. Were you in Canton in 1860?"

"See here!" Gates said. "You aren't suggesting that I—"

"Were not suggesting a damned thing," Boykin said. "I just want to ask you about Canton in 1860. What do you know about it?'

"Factories," Boykin said.

"What?"

"Factories. Well, actually they were warehouses, and they lined the docks. Canton was a busy place then, true enough. There were many, many ships in and out of the harbor—all sorts of ships: American, French, British, Dutch. There would have been ample opportunity."

"Well, can you recall anything that might help us?" Boykin asked.

"No, nothing beyond what I've told you," Gates said. "Oh, there is one thing. But no, I don't see how it can be of any help. Come to think of it, I hate to recall it. It was a sad thing, really, and it just goes to show you how different the Chinese mind works... uh . . . beggin' your pardon, Miss."

"Well, what is it?" Boykin asked.

"Well, the province of Kwangtung was ruled by a Manchu prince by the name of Lo Ching. And the story is that his daughter got made pregnant by some American sea captain."

"Well, do you suppose that could be our man?" Boykin asked.

"No," Captain Gates said. "There's no way it could be." He shook his head slowly. "You see, Lo Ching had his daughter ... his own daughter mind you, herself a princess, taken into the public square and beheaded."

"Damn," Boykin said.

"That's what I mean about the Chinese being different." He looked at Le'. Of course, that captain couldn't have been your father, girl, or you wouldn't even be here today."

"What about Lo Ching?" Boykin asked. "How could a man live with himself, after doing such a thing to his own daughter?"

"Lo Ching died not more than a year after that," Boykin said. "The fella that's in charge now is a fella named Wu Cho. Wu Cho, it turns out, was the Manchu prince who was supposed to marry Lo Ching's daughter. He wound up getting everything anyway—except, of course, the daughter."

Boykin poured himself another brandy. 'That's a pretty gruesome story. Are you sure of your facts?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Captain Gates said. "It was the talk of the China trade for years after "

"Who was the father?"

"Who was he? I'm not sure I can remember," Captain Gates said. "At any rate, it shouldn't be important to Le'. We know he can't be our man."

"No, I suppose not," Boykin said, "but as he did consort with a Chinese woman, he may know others who did."

"I wish I could help you," Captain Gates said. "I just can't remember his name. I believe it was something like Lane or Lynn, but I just can't remember. At any rate, he left the sea after that"

"Where is he now?"

"The last I heard he was an alcoholic derelict. And that was fifteen years ago. I wouldn't be surprised to hear he is dead and gone, lo, these many years now."

"Well, it's a shame," Boykin said. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at Le'. "At least we know that has nothing to do with you, eh, Le7 Though, God knows, you are lovely enough to be a princess."

"If you want to know my bet, it's that her mother was the daughter of a wealthy merchant," Captain Gates said. "You know, those Chinese, they had the idea that we were . . . now let's see, what is it they called us? Oh, yes, 'Fan Kuei.'"

"Fan Kuei," Le' said, smiling and correcting Captain Gate's pronunciation. "It means foreign devils."

"I knew it was something like that. Anyway, I know we weren't very highly regarded by the Chinese."

* * *

"About the way we regard them in this country?" Boykin said.

Captain Gates cleared his throat again. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess you are right."

"Well, Le' shan't be subjected to that type treatment," Boykin said, "at least not in this house."

"She is such a beautiful woman that I feel certain she would be welcome anywhere," Captain Gates said.

"You are most gracious," Le' said.

"Miss, I don't know what good I can do for you, but I shall make a few discreet inquiries. Should I be fortunate enough to turn up something which may be of use to you in finding your father, I shall let you know at once."

"Thank you," Le' said quietly.

The conversation between Captain Gates and Boykin began to turn. Soon they were discussing only business, and Le' knew that her presence was not only no longer needed but not really desired. Consequently, she excused herself, leaving the parlor and the men. She intended to return to her room, but decided instead to walk on through the house and out onto the back balcony.

The view one could enjoy from the balcony by day was even more breathtaking by night. For displayed before her, on the rolling hills of San Francisco, was the city at night. Thousands of golden lights winked back at her, some pale and flickering from perhaps a single candle, others brilliantly white from gas lanterns. There were many colors too, as several businesses had taken the custom of mantling their lights in colored glass to draw attention to their establishment.

Overhead, the heavens were not to be outdone by the visual display of mere mortals: stars, ranging from red through gold and white to pale blue, winked from the velvet blackness of the sky.

As Le' enjoyed the beauty thus displayed, she sensed the approach of someone and, without looking around, realized that it was Jason.

"Good evening, Mr. Powers," she said quietly.

"How did you know I was here?" Jason asked in surprise. "And how did you know it was me?"

"It is a lovely night, isn't it?" Le' said, sidestepping his questions.

"Yes," Jason replied. He stepped up to the low, concrete wall which surrounded the balcony, put his hands on it, and leaned forward. He looked toward Le'. Did Captain Gates have any information on your father?"

"No," Le' said. "She didn't know that Jason knew she was looking for her father, but she said nothing.

"You are looking for him, aren't you?" Jason went on, wanting to elicit some comment from her. "That's part of the deal, isn't it? You marry me, and my father helps you find your father?"

"Yes," Le' said. "That is the arrangement"

"Don't you think I should ask you before you make such a deal?"

"I did not make the deal with you," Le' said easily. T made it with your father."

"But I'm the one you are supposed to marry," Jason said. "It would seem to me that I would have something to say about that. What if I don't want to marry you?" At that moment Le' chose to make Jason want her. She looked at him with cool appraising eyes, then reached up and touched him lightly on the shoulder. With the knowledge she learned in the sexual lessons at Shan Tal, she found a secret spot from which a strange heat emanated. The heat was, she knew, his sexual energy flow. By redirecting this flow she could arouse immediate sexual desire. She applied just the right pressure between her thumb and forefinger. It was subtle, so subtle that Jason didn't realize what she had done.

Jason felt a sudden surge of desire for Le'. The desire was unlike anything he had ever before experienced. Never had he reacted to a woman so quickly or so overwhelmingly.

Such an act was not without its consequences, Le' knew, for in stimulating this desire in Jason, she had pushed him beyond the point of self-control. She would either have to give into his sexual demands or defend herself against them physically. To defend herself physically would be to betray the trust Boykin had placed in her.

It had been some time since Le' had engaged in sex, and Jason was an attractive man. Le' knew she would enjoy it There was no question of her defending herself.

Jason turned his head toward her, his face bathed in silver from the sparse moonlight. The jaded, almost hard face she had come to know was, for the moment at least, softened, and Le' responded to it She moved her face toward his. Their lips met: she felt a tingly, pleasurable sensation run through her. The kiss deepened as Jason put his hand behind her head and pulled her to him. He ground his lips against her until finally the kiss ended.

"Le', please," Jason begged, "let's go to your room. You must let me come to you in your room or, I swear, I shall go mad."

When they reached Le's bedroom, Le' slipped out of her clothes easily, without fanfare or embarrassment. Jason, who took the pains to lock the bedroom door, turned around to see her standing by her bed, as nude and slender as a wood nymph.

"Oh," Jason said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice, "my God, you are beautiful."

Le' lay on the bed, the soft moonbeams splashing in through the window and painting her body in silver. The smooth lines of her body were almost catlike. Putting an arm over her head, she stretched so that the swelling mound of flesh, which was the breast beneath that arm, nearly disappeared. It was marked only by the tiny erect nipple, highlighted by the moon's glow.

Jason quickly removed his clothes, climbed into bed beside her, and put one hand on her shoulder, then let it trail along her body.

Le' felt Jason's white hot passion bubbling over to the boiling point. She was able to tap into that flow of passion so that her own arousal was quickened. She. felt a pleasantness which began in her loins and flowed through her body, awakening her senses and heating her blood. She responded to the sensations Jason felt. As his hands caressed her, she could feel the barely controlled quivering in them and the tremendous excitement he felt.

Jason began to caress her with the skilled and tender supplications of one who has done this many times before. Le', who was now attuned to the rapture which racked Jason's body, returned his caresses, stoking the fires of his passion to an even greater degree.

Driven by an all-consuming need which altered time and place and circumstances, Jason entered her, giving out a cry of pleasure. Le' gave all that she was to Jason, for it was her way to give and take pleasure to the maximum degree once the commitment was made. She rose to meet him; at the moment of supreme pleasure, she felt not only her own sweet ecstasy but Jason's as well.

But—even with the heat of the backfire burning brightly within—a sudden, vivid memory of Mike Kelly returned, and she could see through the flames of this union, the face of the red-headed man who had moved her so.

Mike looked at the gold pocket watch Captain Lyons had given him so many years ago, then put it away. He had told Kate to come at nine o'clock, and it was nearly that now. Kate wouldn't be late, he knew, but she wouldn't be one minute early either. Mike sometimes suspected that she arrived early, then waited somewhere close by to arrive exactly on time. But, of course, time was the commodity Kate dealt in. Kate was a whore, and she charged by the hour, or the night. Once, Kate had made the offer to Mike to visit him free, anytime he wanted her.

"Why would you be willing to do that?" Mike wanted to know.

"You are different from the others," Kate said. "You make me feel good."

"Well, that's what this is all about, honey," Mike joked.

"No, I don't mean that," Kate said. "That, too, but I mean something else." Kate was a very pretty woman in a showy sort of way. She was in her late-twenties, had bright blonde hair and blue eyes. She had to keep herself looking nice for professional reasons. Only when one looked very, very close, could one see the onset of dissipation. When she was with Mike, she would soften, would look somehow, vulnerable. I mean, you make me feel good inside," she said.

"You are a very nice woman, Kate," Mike said softly. "And if I make you feel good inside it is because you are good inside."

"Then I won't charge you for our visits anymore," Kate said.

"No," Mike said. "I want you to charge me. Kate, I don't feel degraded because I don't consider our relationship degrading. If you stop charging, I'm afraid we might take our relationship into new areas—areas where one or both of us may get hurt I would prefer to leave it just as it is."

Kate smiled broadly. "All right, Mr. Mine Superintendent," she said, "I will do as you say. I will charge you to the second for every moment we spend together. But . . . that won't keep me from enjoying it."

"I should hope not," Mike said, "for I certainly plan to enjoy it."

At the stroke of nine, the door to Mike's small, onsite shack opened, and Kate stepped in. She smiled at Mike.

"Aren't you going to welcome me?" she asked. "Sure," Mike replied. He pointed to a chair. "Have a seat."

Kate walked by him on die way to the chair and planted a kiss on his lips. She smoothed her skirt and sat down. "You haven't sent for me in quite a while."

"I've been busy," Mike said.

"I'll say. I heard about the cave-in last week. They say you were a genuine hero."

"I was frightened," Mike said. "What I did wasn't heroic, it was self-preservation."

Kate laughed dutifully, then started unbuttoning her blouse. Mike watched in obvious interest, but made no move toward removing his own clothes.

"You do want to?" Kate asked, pausing at the fourth button and looking at him with the question in her eyes as well as on her lips.

"Yes," Mike said. "Yes, I want to."

Mike unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, then started on his breeches. Completely out of her dress, Kate lay on the bed with her legs splayed, looking up at him with a smile. "Hurry," she said. "I don't want to waste any of your time."

Mike finished undressing, then walked over and got into bed with her. She kissed him and ran her hands over his muscular body.

"O-o-o-h," she whispered, "I've missed this. Sometimes when you don't send for me for a long time, I get the notion to come on my own."

"I've missed this, too," Mike said, pulling her against his naked body and smothering her with kisses.

Kate was no inexperienced young girl. She had been with many, many men, and she had been with Mike on many previous occasions. Because of that and because of her perception, she realized that Mike was preoccupied for some reason. She suspected that his mind was on another woman, though she didn't know who it might be.

Regardless of Mike's preoccupation, Kate was not disappointed by Mike's lovemaking. He was strong and virile; such was the pleasure of the moment that Kate closed her mind to the idea that she might but be a surrogate. As they made love, Mike thought of the beautiful Chinese woman he had seen in the wagon with Jason Powers. He had no way of knowing that at this very moment Le' was making love with Jason Powers, but thinking of him.

# Chapter 15

By training and nature, Le' could command respect. It was true that she had become the hostess of the house not only in name but in fact as well. Mrs. Mabry, who had been the de facto head of the house, gave up her position to Le' and did so willingly when she saw how much better Le' could handle those tasks which Mrs. Mabry found difficult.

Le' left the overall operation of the Powers's household intact so that Mrs. Mabry continued to function as she always had, with no decrease in salary, benefits, or, for that matter, authority over those areas in which she was qualified to exercise authority. Le' was most effective acting as the gracious hostess- receiving and entertaining guests, being attractive and attentive company for Boykin and Jason Powers during evening discussions in the parlor, and other duties of a similar nature.

One evening when the Powers were both out, Le' was sitting alone in the parlor, working on a piece of needlepoint, when one of the servants came to her with a problem.

"Excuse me, Miss Sing," the servant said. "But there is a gentleman in the foyer who insists upon seeing Mr. Boykin Powers. I have told him that Mr. Powers isn't in, but he refuses to leave."

"Thank you, I will see the gentleman," Le' said. She stood up and brushed the folds out of her dress, then glided quietly into the foyer to confront the problem.

Le' stopped just before she passed from the parlor into the foyer, for, there, standing just inside the front door and examining a painting with great curiosity, was the large, red-headed man she had seen at the mine—Mike Kelly. Le' felt a quick, unaccountable jolt in her body, then a slow rising of temperature. For an instant she closed her eyes to get back in touch with the inner self which had always provided her with total control The effort worked, for when she opened her eyes, the quick building of heat had been checked, though a small warmth remained.

Le' found the situation extremely puzzling. Why did she react so every time she saw this man?'

"May I help you?" Le' asked, her voice as soft and melodic as a musical chord.

Mike Kelly turned toward the sound of the voice, and his eyes registered first surprise, then extreme pleasure at seeing her. But those emotions were quickly crowded out by a third, one which puzzled Le'. What could this new reaction be? Resentment? Jealousy, perhaps? But, why?

"I want to see Boykin Powers," Mike said sullenly.

"I'm sorry, but neither Mr. Powers is in," Le' said easily. "Boykin and Jason Powers have gone to a business meeting this evening. Perhaps I can do something for you?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Le' Sing," Le' said. "I am the mistress of this household."

"The mistress? Yeah, I'll bet you are," Mike said. "I'll just bet you are."

Le's eyes narrowed slightly. "I fear you misunderstand," Le' said.

"No, I don't think I misunderstand at all," Mike said. "You are what you say you are. But what I can't understand is, Why? How could you be seen with someone like Jason Powers when he so badly mistreats your people."

"My people?"

"Other Chinese," Mike said.

Le' smiled. "Oh, I see. I am limited only to Chinese, is that it? Others aren't my people?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Mr. Kelly, I am half American. I consider everyone my people."

"You know my name?"

"Yes," Le' said easily. "Mr. Powers speaks of you often."

"Yeah? Which Mr. Powers?"

"Both," Le' said. "Boykin Powers respects your skills as a mining superintendent Jason Powers is jealous of them."

"Tell me something I don't know," Mike said. He looked at Le' with a long, appraising look. "For example, why do you allow yourself to be seen in the company of such aman as Jason Powers?"

"Because I am going to marry Jason Powers."

"You are going to marry him?" Mike asked, clearly shocked by Le's statement.

"Yes."

"My God," Mike said. He folded his arms and took one step back, continuing his long, appraising look. "Well, it is quite obvious why Jason Powers would marry you—you may well be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But why would you marry him?"

"Mr. Kelly, why must I explain my actions to you?"

"There is no need to explain your actions to me," Mike said easily. "If I weren't such a fool to be blinded by your looks, I would realize the truth. You are obviously marrying Jason Powers because of his wealth."

Le' was silent.

"Am I right?"

"If it pleases you to think so," Le' said quietly.

"No, it doesn't please me to think so," Mike said. "Then don't think so."

Mike sighed. "You are not only the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, you may also be the most exasperating. Your name shouldn't be Tears of Jade: it should be One Who Makes Others Angry."

It was Le's turn to be shocked, for Mike had spoken her name, Le' Sing, using the English translation, and he had spoken the words "one who makes others angry" in Chinese. He was the first American Le' had ever encountered who could speak her language. Her face registered her surprise.

"As you can see, I, too, have a few surprises," Mike said, speaking in Chinese.

"How did you learn to speak Chinese?"

"I was in China once a long time ago," Mike said. "And I've worked with Chinese for many years. Many have become my friends, and I feel one should be able to converse with friends in their own language."

"Most Americans do not feel this way," Le' suggested.

"Most Americans do not regard Chinese as members of the human race," Mike said. "Most Americans are like your fiancé." Mike twisted his lips on the word "fiancé" so that it came out distorted with the distaste he felt. "Jason Powers feels that way about Chinese. That is why I am surprised by your arrangement"

"Prejudice is not limited to Americans," Le' said. "Surely, you encountered it when you were in China."

"Yes," Mike said. "I know what it is like to be considered a Fan Kuei." Unconsciously, Mike put his hand in his pocket and fingered Captain Lyons's gold watch. "I once had a friend who was subjected to the cruelest form of prejudice."

"Yet, you bear no ill will against Chinese?" Le' asked.

"No," Mike said, "though there are Chinese I dislike." Mike looked at Le'; though his eyes still hungered for her, they were clouded by a sense of betrayal. Then Le' heard him say, "You, for example, I don't like you."

"I see," Le' said, hurt by his statement, though she knew she should have been able to rise above it. She sighed. "You don't have to like me, Mr. Kelly, to relay messages to Mr. Powers through me. As I have already explained, Mr. Powers isn't here. So if you will tell me what you wish, I will—"

"There's no need," Mike said. I'll come back later."

"Very well," Le' replied. She pointed to the front door, a gesture indicating that she wanted him to leave now.

Mike started toward the door. Then he stopped and did a strange thing. He grabbed Le' and pulled her to him3 crushing his lips against hers.

Le' was caught off guard by the unexpected action, to be sure, but she was perfectly capable of breaking away if she wanted to. He was holding her in an embrace, and there were two dozen martial art moves she could have made to break the hold and teach this Mike Kelly a lesson. But something else was holding Le', something against which there was no martial art move. Le' found herself absolutely powerless to fight it.

From the moment Mike's lips made contact with hers, Le' felt a searing heat diffusing her body, flooding her with pleasure and rendering her as helpless against his embrace as if she had been restrained by chains. But Le' was not the only one affected by the kiss. Mike had instigated the kiss to show his disdain for her and, in a sense, to exercise what he considered to be his position of superiority over her. However, the kiss backfired on him: rather than a bruising lesson, the kiss turned into a moment of splendor, which left his senses reeling and his knees weak.

Slowly, reluctantly, Mike broke away. He looked at Le' with a sense of confusion. Who was this woman? How could she affect him so with but one kiss?

"Who are you?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "No, more to the point, what are you?"

"I am who and what you would have me be," Le' answered.

Mike took a couple of steps back from her and was about to turn and run when the sound of a carriage reached their ears.

"The Powers are back," Le' said.

"What?"

"Mr. Powers," Le' said, "you wanted to see him?"

Mike had not taken his eyes off Le', nor had the look of confusion left his eyes. She was saying the name Towers, but it meant nothing to him. He was cognizant only of her beauty, the thickening of his tongue, the stupefying of his senses, and the searing heat which was consuming him.

The sounds of footfalls on the front steps finally got through to him, and Mike turned toward the front door just as it opened.

"It is going to be a foul night, I fear," Boykin Powers said, stepping through the front door and starting for the hall tree with his hat. "The air is heavy—I think it will rain, and when it does it shall be a cold rain. Ah, Mike," Boykin said, smiling genuinely. "How nice to see you."

"Good evening, Mr. Powers," Mike said.

Jason came in then, and when he saw Mike, his face registered instant hostility. "So," he said. "What brings you here? Trouble, no doubt. It follows you about" There is going to be trouble," Mike said, "unless your father acts to put an end to your foolishness."

"Oh? And what foolishness would that be?" Jason asked petulantly. He hung his hat on a peg next to his father's.

"You know damned well what foolishness I'm talking about," Mike said. I'm talking about your order that all new timber purchases must be approved by you."

"I don't consider that foolish," Jason said. "I consider that good economic sense. You are breaking us with your insane insistence that grand^ hallways be built through the mountain."

"The purchase order you approved will barely do for half the tunnels we are working in. Which tunnels do you want closed?"

I don't want any of them closed," Jason said. "I've ordered enough timbering to do the job."

"Enough to do the job? Didn't you learn anything from the near disaster we had a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes," Jason said triumphantly. "You put your finger on it when you said it was a near disaster. It wasn't a disaster, and it wasn't a disaster because there was sufficient timbering to do the job."

"What the hell are you talking about, sufficient to do the job?" Mike roared. "In case you don't realize it, half of Mount Penelope is lying in the offshoot tunnel."

"Yes, and, as I explained at the site, a collapse of that magnitude would have occurred regardless. But the timbering in place did hold long enough to allow you and . . What was the Chinaman's name?"

"His name is Fow Chang," Mike said angrily. "He was nearly killed by your stupidity, and you can't even remember his name."

"Yes, well, the point I am making is you and Fow Chang did escape, and you did so because the shoring did its job."

"Mike," Boykin said, interrupting the rather heated discussion between Mike and his son. "Mike, I know you have the welfare of the miners at heart. That is what makes you such a fine superintendent. But Jason has brought me an engineering report to substantiate his claim. The engineer says that the lumber Jason has ordered is enough to do the job. The lumber you requested would be twice as much as needed."

"I will admit that I may have ordered a bit more than is actually needed, but I did it to provide a safety factor," Mike said.

"The point is, Mike, we can't afford that much of a safety factor," Boykin said. "The bitter truth is that the amount of gold we have removed in the last six months will not even pay for the operation. We've got to start cutting expenses ... at least until we find the vein again."

* * *

Mike sighed. "We will not find the vein if we don't start exploring some of the diversionary tunnels . . . and we can't explore them if they aren't properly timbered."

"I tell you what," Boykin said, smiling and putting his hand on Mike's shoulder, "suppose we leave the existing timbers in place in Diversionary Tunnel Number . . . oh . . . which one do you think is most promising?"

"Diversionary Tunnel Number Three seems more in line with the direction we believe the vein to be headed—but it is also the least stable," Mike said.

"Excellent," Boykin said. "I can't think of a better way to prove my point. Tomorrow morning, I will go out there and fire the first shot toward extending Tunnel Three. Til place the charges myself."

"That's very dangerous work," Mike said.

"Mike, did you think I was born rich?" Boykin asked with a light laugh. "I prospected these darned mountains for over ten years before I hit the Glory Hole. Ive tamped down more charges than most of your powder monkeys have seen. I know what I'm doing."

"Dad, Mike is right," Jason said. "Let someone else place those charges."

"No one can tell me how to handle dynamite," Boykin said.

"It's not just the dynamite, it's..."

"Then what is it?" Boykin asked, looking at Jason with raised eyebrows. "The engineer's report is accurate, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Jason said. "It's just that..."

"Then there is no problem," Boykin said. He turned to Mike. "Are any charges made up, ready to go?"

"Yes," Mike said. "They are ready," Mike looked at Jason. "Will you be going there with him?"

"No," Jason said. "I ... I don't like messing with dynamite."

"I thought as much," Mike said derisively. He looked at both Powers for a moment longer, issuing a silent challenge to them, then he turned and saw Le' again. For just an instant the memory of the lass they had so recently shared came flooding back, and he felt a brief dizziness. He closed his eyes for a second to regain his composure. "I will see you in the morning at the mine," he said to the men.

The Powers and Le' stood in the foyer for a moment after Mike left.

"The insolence of that son-of-a-bitch is more than I can take," Jason said. "One day he shall get his comeuppance,"

"Perhaps tomorrow," Boykin said. "When I set off the charge he will have more confidence in your judgment."

"Dad, you aren't really going through with it, are you?" Jason asked.

"Of course, I'm going through with it," Boykin said. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Jason, this whole thing is to prove to Mike that it is safe to work in the mines. And I can respect his insistence that the mines be safe. After all, he has several good men working for him."

"But it isn't up to you to prove it, is it, Dad?"

"Yes, it is," Boykin said. "Jason, I must admit that I was a bit leery of your plan to reduce costs by cutting down on the heavy use of timber until you had that engineering report done. It convinced me that you are right. Now, all I have to do is convince Mike Kelly, and we'll be back in operation."

"Very well," Jason said with a sigh. "If you feel it is something you must do."

"It is something I must do," Boykin said. "I'm not only proving something to Mike, I'm proving something to myself, as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Jason, there is no possibility that you unduly influenced that engineering report, is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't have shown me that report just to convince me that you are right and Mike is wrong," Boykin said.

"No, of course not. It is a genuine report."

Boykin smiled. "I never really doubted it, son. And the fact that you are going to let me set the first charges tomorrow will prove it to everyone else. Now, if you two will excuse me, I think I'll go to bed. I've got a big day tomorrow."

Boykin started up the grand staircase to his bedroom, leaving Jason and Le' standing in the foyer.

"The old fool," Jason said.

"The report is not real, is it?" Le' said.

"No," Jason said. "It is not real."

"Then Mike Kelly is correct. There is a danger of a cave-in."

"Damn it," Jason swore, slamming his fist into his hand. "There is always danger of a cave-in."

"You must not let your father enter the mine tomorrow."

Jason threw up his hands in frustration. "The old fool is going to do what he wants to do," he said. "I don't see any way I can stop him."

"You can tell him the truth," Le' suggested.

* * *

"The truth? No way. He's just looking for some excuse now to get me out of the business entirely. By right, I should be superintendent of all mining operations—not Mike Kelly. Anyway, it wouldn't do any good. Dad is bound and determined to do it, and I think he would set the charges whether he knew the truth or not."

"Perhaps, if I ask him not to go, he will not," Le' said.

Jason looked at Le'. "I'm certain you can make him do anything you wish. I've seen the way he looks at you. He wants you for himself, but he says nothing because he figures you will be good for me." Jason laughed, though it sounded as brittle as the breaking of flawed crystal. "The pompous ass wants to save the world and has prepared to start with me."

"He is a good man," Le' said.

"I must say that I appreciate one thing he has done," Jason said. Slowly the anger and frustration in his eyes were being replaced by a new look—a look of need and desire. "I appreciate the fact that he has given you to me. Come on, let's go to your room."

Le' did not wish to have sex with Jason now. She had been an accommodating partner every night since the first night. But tonight she wanted nothing to do with him. Yet she knew that to refuse him would only make him angry, and she didn't want him angry. She would not have sex with him, but she would avoid it in a way that would make Jason's anger be directed toward himself.

"Come on," Jason said.

"Wait," Le' said, smiling at him.

"Wait? Wait for what?" Jason replied. "Come on, that's what my dad gave you to me for, isn't it? You aren't backing out, are you?"

"No," Le said, "You are."

"I am?" Jason said with a short laugh. "What do you mean?"

Le walked over to Jason and put her fingers lightly on his shoulder. In less than a second, she found the spot through which she could control his sexual energy flow. She applied subtle pressure there and redirected the flow of his vital force. She had learned the secret not only of stimulating desire but of inducing rapture, as well. In less than three seconds, Jason felt the totally unexpected muscle spasms of orgasm.

"My God, what the . . . ?" Jason groaned, grabbing the bannister of the staircase to keep from falling. He looked at Le' with eyes filled with wonder and glazed over with contentment.

"On second thought," he said. "I ... I think I will just go on to my own room. I . . ."

"What is it?" Le' asked innocently.

"I . . . I'm suddenly very tired," Jason said. Slowly, and with effort, Jason climbed the stairs to his room. Behind his back, Le' managed to suppress a laugh.

It wasn't the lightning which awakened her, though the brilliant flashes were occurring with such rapidity that at times the room was lighted as brightly as at midday. It wasn't the thunder, either, though the heavens roared as if with a thousand cannons. Nor was it the wind or rain, slashing against the great house as if it were a ship, storm-tossed by the sea. Le' was awake because she sensed a presence.

Le' lay quietly in her bed, giving no indication that sleep had deserted her, though she was wholly alert to her surroundings. She opened her eyes slightly, peering through the tiniest slits, waiting for the next lightning flash to reveal who the intruder was.

"Le," her nocturnal visitor said. "Le, wake up."

As soon as she heard the voice she knew who it Was, and sat up in surprise. She brushed her long, blue- black hair back so that it fell softly over her shoulders, and she looked at the man. Another flash of lightning revealed what she already knew. It was Mike Kelly.

The lightning flash which revealed Mike to Le' also revealed Le' to Mike, in the fullest sense of the term. Le' was sleeping in the nude. In the instant Mike was able to observe her, he was transfixed. He saw her small but well-formed breasts, topped by erect nipples, and the smooth skin and curving lines which created as sensual a package as he could imagine in his wildest fantasies. Le' made no effort to cover herself with any of the bed clothing.

"You risked much by coming in here," Le' said. "I couldn't help it," Mike said. "It was worth any risk. I . . . . I had to see you again."

"But I thought I was one of the Chinese you so disliked," Le' teased. Le' could feel the charge of sexual excitation bubbling up in Mike. There was no need to find his energy flow—it was so active now that she could get the same effect no matter where she touched him.

"I must have you," Mike said thickly. "God help me, I must."

Mike began removing his clothes, wet from the driving rain outside, and started toward Le's bed.

Le' waited for him. She had seen other men nearly maddened with desire for her, and that she understood. What she did not understand were her own feelings, for as she waited for him she knew that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

Mike's chest was broad and covered with red hair which, in the dim light, seemed to glow like burnished copper. As he moved Le' could see his muscles rippling and bulging. Never had she seen a man who had such a look of raw power. Even the priests of Shan Tal looked less inspiring because they realized their great powers from grace and control, not from brute, male strength.

Mike came to the bed and sat beside Le', pushing her down and trapping her mouth with his own. His damp skin was next to hers, and she could feel his manhood against her leg.

Le' was puzzled by the intensity of the sensations she was feeling. Her head started spinning and she felt an uncontrollable yearning. His tongue brushed across her lips, forcing them open, and thrust inside. It was a way of entering her which she had never before allowed, and his tongue seared her as if it were a hot poker.

Mike put his hands on her body, and the feel of them, caressing her, made her go hot and cold and shaky all at the same time. She surrendered herself to him then, no longer trying to maintain control, but perfectly willing to go where he took them. She yielded to his will, eager to do his every bidding, unable to believe what was happening to her. Never, in all her sexual experiences, had she acquiesced control of any situation nor abandoned herself to the heat of the moment.

Le's legs were smooth and golden against the hardness of Mike's muscle. She looked at their legs as if to steady herself, and she tried to fix the image of them in her mind, to catch up with events which were sweeping her along with dizzying speed.

Mike didn't wait but moved into her. For the first time ever, Le' was making love. She wasn't participating in sex, she was making love.

Le' felt his weight and breathed in his male scent—leather, tobacco, brandy, and his own muskiness. She thrust against him, not with the skills learned at Shan Tal but with the urgency of a desire that only he, of all the men she had known, had been able to release. Then it started—a tiny tingling which began deep inside her, pinwheeling out, spinning faster and faster until every cell in her body was caught up in a whirlpool of ecstasy. Her body was wound like the mainspring of a clock, tighter and tighter until, finally, in a burst of agony which turned into rapture, her body attained the release and satisfaction it had long yearned for. There were a million pins pricking her skin, and involuntary cries of pleasure came from her throat. She felt as if she was losing consciousness and saw lights passing before her eyes as her body gave its final convulsive shudders.

They lay together for several minutes, while Le' floated with pleasant sensations, which stayed with her like the warmth that remains long after the fire has gone.

"The most intense sexual sensations are to be realized when love is involved, but that is not to be for the priests and priestesses of Shan Tal," Mata Wong had said.

"If sex is pleasure and if the most pleasure is derived when one feels love for one's sexual partner, why is this denied to us?" he had asked.

"Because once this happens, your sexual power over others is ended." Mata Wong had declared. "A person who tastes the sweetest fruit knows only bitterness from the other fruit. So should you be loved by someone you love in return, you will lose the skill to remain above lope"

"Never," Mike said when at last he had recovered his breath and the strength to talk, "never, in all my life, have I known such an experience." He raised himself up and looked at Le'. "Surely, you felt it too."

"Please," Le' said. She felt her strength and composure slipping away. She could not allow this man to move her so. Her life was dedicated to fulfilling the mission given her by her mother. Fulfillment of that mission meant that she would have to be loyal to Boykin Powers, and being loyal to Boykin Powers meant that she would have to marry Jason. One hour ago, that marriage was not beyond her power. But now she had tasted the sweetest fruit How bitter was the fruit of Jason Powers. "You must leave now," she said. "If you are discovered here, it will be dangerous for you."

"I will not leave," Mike said. "I cannot leave until I hear from your lips that you were as moved by this experience as I was. Le', something like this—it can happen only once in a lifetime. Don't you see that?" Le' sat up. "Please, Mike, you must go now," she said.

"Why are you fighting it?" Mike asked. "My God, woman, surely you know what I am talking about!"

"I ... I felt pleasure, as one should during such a time," Le' said.

"You felt pleasure?" Mike asked, and he laughed. "You pass this off as a transitory bit of pleasure? This was the rapture of the gods. This was the essence of all promise. Le', this was something which we cannot ignore." Mike reached desperately for Le's hands and drew them to his lips, covering them with kisses. "Please, my darling, don't fight the natural order of things. This is—"

Another flash of lightning lit up the room just as Mike was about to kiss Le's hands again, and he saw the tiny blue chrysanthemum for the first time. "What?" he asked, quietly.

Le' pulled her hands away from him, but Mike reached out and grabbed them again. "What is this?" he asked.

"It is nothing," Le' said quietly.

Mike got out of bed and walked over to the bedside table. He opened the drawer, found some matches, then lit the lantern. When he turned back toward the bed, Le' was sitting there quietly, with her head hanging down. She looked small and vulnerable and beautiful.

"Let me see your hand," Mike said quietly.

Le' made no effort to show it to him.

Mike walked over and took her hand, then held it out so he could examine it in the light of the lantern. He saw the blue chrysanthemum quite clearly then, and he looked at it in silence for a long moment. Finally, he sighed.

"What a fool I have been," he said. He dropped her hand and reached for the wet pile of clothes which lay in a sodden heap.

"You know the sign of the chrysanthemum?" Le' asked quietly.

"Oh, I know it, all right," Mike said. "I know all about it. You used the skills you learned at Shan Tal, didn't you? You feel nothing for me. And I, fool that I am, mistook passion for love,"

"You know, but you do not understand," Le' said. And she felt her eyes brimming with tears. She tried to call on the powers of Shan Tal to help her now, but already she knew that Mata Wong was right. Her powers depended upon her ability to maintain detachment, and with love, there could be no detachment.

# Chapter 16

When Mike left Le's room, he climbed onto his horse and started back for the mine shack. The rain had nearly stopped, though it was still cold and damp, and the wind went through his wet clothes, chilling him to the bone.

But it wasn't only the wet and the cold which chilled him. He was chilled by what lie had just learned, as well. He had been played for a fool by Le'.

There weren't many Americans who knew about Shan Tal, but Mike knew all about it. He had first heard of Shan Tal from Captain Lyons, who had told him stories about the wonderful power of the two priests Pin and Cao. Later, after he learned the Chinese language and was able to speak with the Chinese who worked with him, he learned all about the cloister.

Shan Tal wasn't a religious order, not in any Western sense of the word, but its graduates were called priests and priestesses and they were regarded in a mystical way which bordered on religious.

Mike had heard many tales of their legendary skills, including tales of the sexual powers of the women. It was this, more than the wet and cold, which chilled Mike to the bone.

Mike took a bottle of whiskey from his saddle bag. Then he pulled out the cork, flipped it behind him, and began drinking. He told himself that the whiskey was to combat the cold, but he was using it not as much to combat the cold of the weather as he was to combat the cold ache of his heart

By the time Mike reached the mine shack he was blessedly drunk, finally able to blot out the pain and the memory of the night He threw his leg over the side of his horse, intending to dismount but fell instead.

"Damn!" he swore, lying on his back in the mud. He grew unreasonably angry with the horse as if it, not his state of intoxication, was the cause of his falling. He kicked at it "Get the hell out of my way!"

The horse whinnied and moved away. Mike grabbed the hitching rack and pulled himself up, then, with a lunging, lurching motion, managed to move into the shack. He removed the wet clothes, not because he had the presence of mind to do so to prevent getting sick but because they were uncomfortable. He staggered over to the bed, flung himself across it, and fell asleep—or passed out—as the first pink fingers of dawn began to lighten the eastern sky.

When Mike awakened later that same morning, it was to a banging on the front door. For a moment he wasn't certain he had heard the banging because of the pounding in his head. He put his hands to his ears to blot out the noise, but it didn't work.

The door opened, and a shift foreman came in.

"You awake, Boss?"

Mike sat up. Cushioning his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees, he didn't move for several seconds. "Yes," he finally said. He stood up, walked over to the water basin, and poured the entire pitcher of water on his head. The shift foreman handed him a towel, and Mike dried himself, then tossed the towel back. "What is it?" he asked. "Who was doing all the pounding?"

"That was me, Boss. I was trying to wake you up." Mike pulled the gold watch out of the trousers he had worn the night before, wiped the case dry, then flipped the cover up to check the time.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess you had a right to wake me up. I should have been up and about a couple of hours ago."

"Well, some of the fellas seen you come in," the shift foreman said, "and from what they said I was sure you'd be needin' a bit extra time this mornin'. Fac' is, I wouldn't of woke you up now had this here Chinese woman not insisted on it."

"Chinese woman?"

"Yeah, you know, that real purty one that come out here with Jason Powers that time."

"What does she want?" Mike asked, pulling cm a dry pair of trousers and reaching for a shirt "Well, Sir, Mr. Boykin Powers, he come out this morning, 'n he said he was going to lay in the first shoot of the new cutting. He said you know's about it."

"Yes," Mike said, "he mentioned it last night, but I thought I would be awake by the time he got here."

"Anyhow, this girl is here now, and she wants to go down into the mine and get him out She says the mine is going to cave in."

Mike stuffed his shirttail down into his trousers, pulled on his boots, and followed the shift foreman outside. The bright sun burned his bloodshot eyes, and he had to squint for a moment. He felt a momentary wave of nausea but managed to fight it off.

* * *

Le' walked toward him. She was dressed in the pants and shirt the Chinese women often wore, but whereas the garb generally made of them sexless creatures, Le' seemed even more beautiful. As Mike watched her move he thought of the night before and felt an immediate pulse of arousal, followed just as quickly by a sense of anger.

"What do you want?" he asked, putting as much venom in his voice as he could. He knew that he would have to go overboard to maintain the edge to his voice or her pure sensuality would overcome him.

"Mister Kelly," Le' said, "you must send someone into the tunnel for Mister Powers. He is in great danger.

Mike ran his hand through his hair and looked toward the mine shaft "Are you certain Powers is down there?" Mike asked the shift foreman.^

"Yes, Sir," the shift foreman answered, "He took all his charges down there, too."

"The mine shaft will cave in if he sets off those explosives," Le' said. "You must stop him before he does it."

"What makes you think that?" Mike asked. "I saw the engineer s report. According to it there is no danger."

"But you don t believe it," Le' said. "You were concerned with the danger last night."

"Yeah? Well, I was a lot of things last night," Mike said, "chief of which was foolish."

"I am truly sorry that you did not understand the events of last night," Le' said. "But please, do not let those feelings stand in the way of Mr. Powers's life. If you do not let me go into the tunnel after him, he will be killed."

"Why didn't you stop him before he left the house if you were so worried about him? Or . . Mike got a cynical look on his face. . were you tied up with Jason?"

"Mister Powers left before I awakened this morning," Le' said. "And I don't know where Jason Powers is."

"Did Jason go down with the old man?" Mike asked the shift foreman.

"No," the shift foreman answered. "The old man went down by himself. You know, I think he was really looking forward to this. He was whistling and humming, and joking with everyone. Are you sure it's dangerous, Miss? After all, who should know better than Mister Powers?"

"Yes," Mike said. "Why have you suddenly become my ally in this thing? Don't you believe the engineer's report?"

"That document was falsified," Le' said.

"You mean the engineer didn't pass the mine?"

"No."

"Damn!" Mike said. He had a puzzled expression on his face. "But, surely, Jason Powers wouldn't let his father go down into the shaft if he didn't think it was safe!"

"I do not try to fathom Jason Powers's motives," Le' said. "But he confessed to me that the document is false. Therefore, if you have reason to believe there is danger, I believe there is danger."

"There's something else to consider, Boss," the shift foreman said. "AH that rain last night couldn't have helped things."

I'd better go down after him," Mike said, starting for the mine shaft. If Jason Powers shows up, you keep him here until I get back."

"I am coming with you," Le' said.

"No."

"I am coming with you," Le' said again. She fixed a cool, steady gaze on Mike. "I believe that you know you cannot stop me."

Mike knew that she was probably right. He shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "All right," he said, "it's your funeral."

"Boss, you can't be serious! You're lettin' a woman go into the mine?"

Mike looked at Le'. "She's not just a woman. She's a very special woman. You'd better get each of us a lamp."

Mike started up for the mine shaft opening without waiting for Le'. Le' moved quickly so that she was ready to go down as soon as Mike was. When they each had a lamp and had them burning, they started down.

They walked in silence for several moments. Soon they were deep into the tunnel with only their lamps providing light. It seemed as if they were going down into the very bowels of the earth, and there was a sense of total isolation.

As Le' moved through the tunnel with Mike the silence seemed eerie not only because of their location but because it seemed unusual for two people to be sharing such isolation without speaking.

"Mike," Le' said, "about last night—"

"I hope the rain hasn't loosened the clay above," Mike said. "A good rock slide is about all we need to set this tiling off."

It was obvious that Mike didn't want to talk about the night before, and Le' instinctively knew that she shouldn't push it.

"I wonder how far it is to where he is working," Le' asked, realizing that any other topic of conversation would be ignored.

"Two thousand three hundred and seventeen feet," Mike said. "That is from the mine entrance to where the new diversionary cut is to start. We've already come over fifteen hundred feet. See?" He pointed to a distance marker on the side of the tunnel.

"Fire in the hole!" The voice sounded far off as it rolled up through the tunnel.

"Oh, Jeez, he's about to set off the charges!" Mike said. "Boykin—no!" he shouted.

Mike's shout was drowned out by the boom of the explosion. It was difficult to tell when the sound of the explosion ended and the roar of the cave-in began. The timbers snapped in a series of pops like a string of firecrackers. Rock and mud fell on them from above, and Mike grabbed Le' and backed her up against the wall, the safest place to be during the collapse. Finally, after what seemed like a full minute of sound and fury, the mine grew quiet. It was also dark because both lamps were out.

"Are you all right?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Le' said. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Mike replied. "Damn, my lamp is shot. How about yours?"

"Here," Le' said, handing hers to him. "I don't know how to make it work."

Tt has a friction wheel to provide a spark," Mike said. Le' heard a couple of zipping sounds, then a pop, followed by light "Ah, there we go," Mike said Mike flashed the light around to assess the damage. Before them, deeper into the mine, there had been a total collapse. The shaft was completely blocked with tons of rock and dirt A collapsed timber prevented them from exiting the mine, but from beyond the timber, Mike could feel a flow of air.

"If we could move this timber out of here, we could get out," Mike said.

"Will they come for us soon?" Le' asked.

"I don't know," Mike said. "I would hope so. As unstable as this shaft is, the rest of it could go at any time. It might be difficult for someone to come for us."

"Can we work our own way out?"

"I don't know that, either," Mike said. "We need to wait a few minutes to see if everything stabilizes, then we can try. At least the air is good."

Mike walked over and sat down against the wall, and Le' sat down with him. She shivered once.

"Are you cold?"

"A little," she said.

Mike put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. "At least it won't get any colder," he said. "It stays the same temperature here, year around."

Le' felt the strength in Mike's arms, and for the moment she cared not that they were trapped fifteen hundred feet inside a mine. She knew only that Mike's arm was around her, and she luxuriated in that sensation.

"Poor Mister Powers. He's dead, isn't he?" Le' said. Mike looked back toward the pile of rubble which had the mine completely closed off.

"I would say yes," Mike said. "If he isn't now, he soon will be. The explosion blasted a lot of the air out of there, and the blockage is keeping any fresh air from getting back in. He'll be out of air soon if he is still alive. If he was lucky, he was killed in the blast."

"I feel that I am responsible," Le' said. "I shouldn't have let him leave this morning."

"Le', it is all any of us can do to be responsible for our own actions," Mike said. "We cannot spend our lifetime taking the responsibility for what others might do."

They were quiet for several more moments. Then Mike spoke again. "What about last night?"

"What?"

"You were going to explain last night to me a while ago, but I brushed it off. Now I would like to hear."

"I am glad you will listen now," Le' said, and she looked up at Mike.

Mike put his arms around her and pulled her to him, bringing his lips to hers in a kiss. It wasn't a strained kiss, but one which was natural and fulfilling, and Le' let herself slide into it, testing the depths to which it would take her. She finally pulled away with a head which was spinning with the pleasure of it.

"You were going to tell me about last night," Mike finally said.

"Yes," Le' agreed. "It was not as you thought. I did not use the secrets of Shan Tal while we made love."

"There had to be something," Mike said. He looked at Le'. "Le, I am not a man without experience. But never have I experienced anything like what I felt last night."

"Have you ever been in love before?" Le' asked.

"In love? No, I don't think so. Why? What are you telling me?"

"At Shan Tal we learned many things," Le' said. "One of the things we learned is that no technique of sensory pleasure can equal the pleasure two people feel when they are in love. Love is the real aphrodisiac."

"And you felt it, too?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Le' said. "I felt it, too."

"Then . . . does this mean you are telling me that you love me?"

"Yes."

Mike grinned broadly. "Well, see here," he said, "Le', this is wonderful! We can be married immediately, and then—"

"No," Le' said quietly.

"No? What do you mean, no? I don't understand. Why not? Surely you don't intend to go through with your marriage to Jason Powers?"

"I do not love Jason Powers," Le' said. "Oh, Mike, don't you see? When I am with you, I think only of you. My life is for you only, and not for my mission. But I cannot let anything come between me and the mission I must perform. If I married you, you would be in the way."

"I see," Mike said. He got up, brushed off the seat of his pants, and walked over to look at the timbers for a moment. "We may not make it out of here," lie finally said. "So none of this may make a difference anyway."

Le' got up and joined Mike by the timbers. Mike was shining the lamp over them. "If I just had an ax," he said, "I believe I could chop through these three pieces. Then we could slip through."

"What three pieces?" Le' asked.

"Those," Mike said, pointing to two two-by-fours and one four-by-four. "I could break the two-by-fours," he said, "but the jar of my weight against them might bring the rest of this down. Then we would be in trouble." He put his hands on them and tested them. "No, I need something to cut through them, like an ax bit. Something sharp and clean which wouldn't jar everything."

Le' looked at the two-by-four for an instant, then brought the knife edge of her hand down sharply, slicing through the board as cleanly as if her hand was an ax. She cut through the other two-by-four as cleanly as the first.

Mike watched in near shock. "What the hell?" he said. "How did you do that?"

"It is a simple thing," she said. She looked at the four-by-four.

"You don't plan to attack that one, do you?"

Le' took her shoes off. "Come here," she said, directing Mike where she wanted him.

"What is it? What do you want me to do?"

"You will have to support my weight," Le' said. "Here, hold me here," She put his arms around her, just below her shoulders, then she placed her hands on his shoulders. Are you ready?"

"I suppose so," Mike said, "though I've no idea what you are about to do."

Le' suddenly leaped up so that she was parallel with the floor, being supported entirely by Mike. She drew both legs in, assuming a tucked position, then she shot them out toward the four-by-four, her left foot on top of her right. Her feet went through the board as cleanly as her hand had gone through the two-by-fours.

As soon as Le' had both feet back on the ground Mike dropped to one knee to look at what she had done.

"My God," he said. He looked at her in awe. "My God," he said again.

"It is but a simple trick," Le' said, dismissing it.

"I don't know what it is," Mike said, "but it isn't simple. I...I feel you are right. I really do have no business asking you to many me. I was a fool even to suggest it."

"No!" Le' said. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to be married to Mike yet because her love for him would have preempted the mission she had spent a lifetime preparing for. But she didn't want it to end this way—with Mike feeling inadequate. "No, it isn't that way at all," she said.

"I think we can get through here now," Mike said, ignoring Le'. "You go first."

Le' started to tell Mike that he should go first. If Mike's egress brought down another timber, she would be able to deal with it If her egress brought down another one, Mike wouldn't be able to deal with it and from the other side, she might not be able to help. But she said nothing because she knew that to do so would be another blow to Mike's self-esteem.

"Thank you," Le' said quietly, and she got on her bands and knees and quickly slipped through the small opening.

Le' waited anxiously on the other side then Mike emerged. There was nothing left now between them and the mouth of the mine.

"Come on," Mike said. "We need to get out of here before any more of those rocks fall. Though I don't know why I'm worried. A priestess of Shan Tal could probably break up the rocks as easily as you did the boards."

Le' said nothing, but walked behind as he started toward the entrance. For the first time in her life she regretted ever having heard of Shan Tal, and she cursed the special powers which were here.

# Chapter 17

Boykin Powers had not only been a wealthy man, he had been a popular man. His popularity had sprung in part from his easy way with everyone: he had been known to be a generous man who had a difficult time saying no to anyone's need. But he was also popular because he had realized everyone's dream. Boykin Powers had come to California with no more than the clothes he had on his back. He had become a familiar figure, prospecting the mountains of northern California, and when he had struck it rich, it seemed to have reinforced everyone's feeling that they, too, might strike it rich someday.

It took four days to recover Boykin's body, but the miners learned upon discovery of his body that he had not suffered during that time. He had been killed instantly, crushed by the collapse of one of the supporting timbers.

The undertaker, Amos Pendgammon, prepared the body very well and was very proud of his work. When Boykin lay on view in the parlor of his house before being taken out to the cemetery, Amos stood by showing the proper look of sorrow on his face, but with ill-concealed pride in his eyes over the comments of "how natural old Boykin" looked.

There were several people in the house, and the curving driveway out front was crowded with coaches, carriages, phaetons, and buggies—ready to follow the black glass-walled hearse out to the cemetery. Word had already reached the mourners in the house that upwards of a thousand people were waiting at the cemetery.

"All right, everyone, we are about to move the body," Amos announced. Those who had already viewed the body started for their vehicles to make the trip.

Le' had been sitting quietly in the comer of the parlor for the entire time. When Amos's announcement cleared the parlor, and indeed the house, she stayed where she was.

"Miss, we are going to move the body now," Amos said to the beautiful Chinese girl who sat motionless.

Le' made no sigh of recognition, and Amos turned to the men who were with him. "I guess she doesn't speak English," he said.

"Oh, she speaks English all right," one of the men said. The man who spoke was Captain Gates. Le' remembered having met him. He walked over to speak to her.

"Miss Sing, I'm real sorry about Boykin. I know he meant almost as much to you as your own pa would have."

"Thank you," Le' said quietly. Gates was right Down inside Le' had hoped that when she did find her father, he would be just like Boykin. In fact, she had even wished sometimes that Boykin really were her father.

"Are you going out to the cemetery?"

"No," Le said.

"Well, I don't blame you none. If I wasn't one of the pallbearers, damned if I would go either. I don't like these things."

"Captain Gates," Pendgammon called. "We must move the body now."

"Yeah, I'll be right there" Gates looked at Le'. "Say, didn't you tell me your father's name had something to do with a big cat?"

"Yes," Le' said.

"I don't know how-much this will help but . . . well . . . there might be something to it. Here." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was an advertisement:

* * *

FASTEST SHIPPING ON THE PACIFIC!!!

SEA TIGER SHIP LINES Captain Andrew Tiger, Proprietor San Diego, California

* * *

Le' looked up at him. "Do you know this man?"

I've never heard of him," Gates admitted. "But when I saw this circular, I thought of you. A tiger is a big cat."

"Thank you," Le' said. "Thank you very much."

"I'm just sorry I had to give it to you on such a sad occasion," Gates said.

"Captain Gates, please." Pendgammon said. "Everyone is waiting."

"Keep your shirt on, Pendgammon," Gates said, starting toward the group of pallbearers. "I'm sure old Boykin isn't in the least impatient."

Only after everyone was gone did Le' go to the table which had acted as catafalque for Boykin's coffin. She took two joss sticks from inside the folds of her dress and put them in a vase on the table, then lit them. The fragrant smoke curled up from them, carrying

her thoughts of Boykin to heaven on the small wisps.

"What the hell is that?" Jason said, coming into the room.

"I am paying homage to Mr. Powers," Le' said. "Yeah? Well, do whatever you want, it doesn't make any difference now. Come on if you want to ride out to the graveyard with me."

"I'm not going," Le' said.

"Suit yourself," Jason said. "I wouldn't go either if it wouldn't cause so damn much talk. But I put up with enough stuff from that old man while he was alive. I've no intention of letting him come back to haunt me now that he's gone."

"Jason, why did you let him go down in the mine shaft?" Le' asked.

"Hey, look, don't blame me," Jason said. "You knew that shaft was dangerous. Why didn't you stop him? He wouldn't have listened to me anyway."

Jason's words stung Le' because she knew there was a great deal of truth to them. She hadn't stopped Mr. Powers because he had gotten up and had left before she had awakened. And she had slept later than she normally would have because of the nocturnal visit of Mike Kelly.

"I tried to stop him," Le' said. "But it was too late."

"Well, don't worry about it. The son-of-a-bitch probably wouldn't have listened to you, either. He was so anxious to keep Kelly on as his superintendent that he would have done anything to satisfy him. Well, he got himself killed; that's what he did. And Kelly's no longer around."

Le' looked toward Jason with a question in her eyes. "Oh, didn't I tell you?' Jason asked. "My first official act after taking over Powers Mining was to fire the superintendent of mines. I haven't even seen him here, and I doubt that he has the guts to show up at the cemetery. Oh," he said, rubbing his hands in glee, "let. me tell you that it was sweet. It was sweet indeed"

"It was also foolish," Le' said. "Mike Kelly is a good man."

"Yeah? What do you know about mining?"

"I know Mike Kelly."

"And just what is that supposed to mean? How well do you know Mike Kelly?".

"I know him well enough to be in love with him," Le' said.

"Oh, you are in love with him, are you? Am I to understand then that you no longer love me?" Jason was speaking in a singsong, sarcastic tone of voice. "I am heartbroken," he said, and he made a show of putting his hands across his heart.

"I was never in love with you," Le' said. "And you have never been in love with me."

"You are half monkey," Jason said, with his lips curling in distaste. "You didn't really expect me to actually marry a half monkey, did you? And raise some slanty-eyed brat?" Jason laughed bitterly. "I went along with the old man's crazy notion because it was convenient to have you warm my bed . . . but I wouldn't have married you in a thousand years."

"I knew as much," Le' said.

"You knew? Then why did you tell the old man you would marry me?"

"Because it was what he wanted," Le' said.

"I see," Jason said. "And if he had wanted to take you to bed with him, would you have gone?"

"Yes," Le' said easily..

"You . . . you slut!" Jason brought his hand around to slap her, but Le', tuning it perfectly, snapped her head back out of the way, and Jason nearly fell. "Get out of this house," he spat at her. "Get out of this house and don't come back again."

"That is my intention," Le' said. She walked over toward the comer. It was only then that Jason saw a small, packed duffle. Le' picked it up and hoisted it over her shoulder.

"And you take that other Chinese slut with you!"

"Tsien has found employment elsewhere," Le' said, and she walked out of the parlor, through the kitchen, and out the back door.

# Chapter 18

The first pink fingers of dawn touched the pear cactus. The light was soft, and the air was cool. Mike liked the mountains best early in the morning. He was camped on the side of Sourdough Mountain, so named because of the number of prospectors who had worked it over the previous thirty years. The last morning star made a bright pinpoint of light over the purple Lodestock Mountains, lying in a ragged line to the East.

Mount Penelope was in the Lodestock Mountains, as were all eight of the Powers mines. There were no working mines on Sourdough Mountain, though there had been several exploratory holes dug there in search of gold.

The coals from Mike's campfire of the night before were still glowing, and he threw chunks of dead tree limbs on it, then stirred the fire into crackling flames which danced merrily against the bottom of the suspended coffee pot. A rustle of wind through feathers caused him to look up just in time to see a golden eagle diving on its prey. The eagle swooped back into the air carrying a tiny field mouse, kicking fearfully in the eagle's claws. A lizard scurried beneath a nearby mesquite tree which was itself dying under the burden of parasitic mistletoe.

Mike poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to enjoy it. It was black and steaming, and he had to blow on it before he could suck it through his lips. He watched the sun peak above the Lodestocks, then stream brightly down onto the valley floor below.

Mike thought of Le'. He had thought of her often during the winter months just past, and he had kicked himself one thousand times for the fool he had been. He should have agreed to take her on any terms. He went to Jason Powers, swallowing his pride to do so, to ask if Jason would transmit a message to her, only to be informed that she was gone.

"I haven't the slightest idea where she has gone," Jason had said. He laughed a short, cynical laugh. "I would have thought you would be the one to answer that question. After all, she left here professing her love for you."

And so it was true. Le' did love him, and he had been too blind to see it. Now it was too late. She had disappeared, somewhere in this vast land, and he was certain that he would never see her again.

After that, Mike took to the hills to prospect for gold. Everyone laughed when he started prospecting on Sourdough Mountain, for it had been worked over so thoroughly that no stone was left unturned. Yet from Mike's analysis of the vein they had been working in Powers Mine Number Eight, it gave all indications of leading toward Sourdough Mountain.

At first, Mike was afraid that Jason would come to the same conclusion he had reached and would start his own exploration of Sourdough. But Jason wasn't interested in that, for he had discovered an easier way to make the Powers Mines profitable. Jason began assessing the stockholders for funds to continue the operation. He wrote letters and pamphlets, promising "bold new discoveries, of the richest veins" if given money to work with. Most of the stockholders, who had been fairly treated by Boykin Powers, were more than willing to ante up a little more money for the prospect of a greater gain.

Jason had no intention of searching for more gold. He made a show of exploration, but in fact the assessments themselves became the most profitable venture in the entire operation.

Mike worked until the winter cold set in, then he spent the winter in an old, abandoned shack on the mountain. He had a lot of time to think during the winter, and he was haunted day and night by the memories of Le'. He welcomed the return of spring and warm weather not only because he could get back to his prospecting but because the work would help keep his mind off what he knew he could never have..

Mike stood up and stretched to work out the kinks in his body from spending the night on the ground, then he tossed out the last dregs of his third cup of coffee. After cleaning up his breakfast dishes, he went over to the dust-covered equipment pack and pulled out the utensils he would need for the day's work—a length of pipe, a tripod, and a pulley arrangement. He set them up and started work. Methodically he pulled the rope, winching the pipe up, then let it fall. He did this over and over again until the pipe began working its way into the ground, picking new dirt up at the bottom, forcing the old through the top.

By dark, Mike had gone some twenty feet deep. He struck his rig and put the pipe which contained a core of soil from that level back in his equipment bag.

Then he rekindled the fire, cooked some beans to eat with his dried beef, and, finally, stretched out on his bed roll, looking up at the stars as he waited to go to sleep.

"The stars, lad," Captain Lyons had told him twenty years ago, "they are the one constant thing in this universe. Everything else changes: men change, animals change, the sea changes ... hell, boy, they tell me that even mountains change over a period of time. But the stars? They never change. We can guide ourselves by the same stars old Christopher Columbus used when he first came to America. Magellan used that same star," Lyons had said, pointing to the North Star, "and it was in the same position then as it is now."

"There are so many I get dizzy looking at them," Mike had said.

"Sure, there are a lot of them, and that's a fact," Captain Lyons had said. "But if a. body made friends with the stars, he'd never be alone. And I'll tell you this, lad. They'll never desert you like human friends will."

Mike had deserted Captain Lyons. Mike had walked away from the _Thunderbolt_ the afternoon the sheriff had plastered the main mast. He had stayed away for one week. When he had gotten over his hurt and anger and had returned to the docks, the _Thunderbolt_ was gone—and with it, Captain Lyons. Mike had tried several times to find him over the next few months, but he never had had any luck. Then, as his life turned away from the sea, Captain Lyons had become less and less important. In fact, Mike was ashamed to admit, he had gone for a long time without even thinking about Captain Lyons, until Le' had shown up. Then, Mike had begun thinking of Lyons again.

Now, ironically, he and Lyons had something else that they shared. They shared a sense of heartbreak over a Chinese woman. Lyons's heartbreak had been caused by events beyond his control. Mike had caused his own.

Mike had heard the story of the Chinese princess who had been publicly beheaded for being made pregnant by an American ship captain. That woman had to be Captain Lyons's Pai—she could be no other. Mike had no idea whether Lyons had heard the story, too, because he had not seen Lyons since he heard it. Sometimes, he hoped that Lyons had not heard the story.

A meteor flashed across the sky, and Mike watched it. Sometimes he felt like a meteor himself—a star with no fixed place, blazing through life with a brilliant fire which consumed all who crossed his path.

"Le'," he said quietly, "Le', if I knew where you were, I would come to you, and I would beg you to forgive me and to take me and let me love you forever. Where are you, Le'? Where, under these stars, are you?"

Le' wasn't under the stars. Le' was in San Diego, and at the moment she was under the roof of the Bucket o' Blood Inn, a tavern which catered to seafaring men. Le' worked there as a barmaid.

It may have been unseemly work for a woman, but Le' took the job for two reasons. The first and primary reason was that she needed a job in order to survive, and there weren't that many jobs available for the Chinese. But the job also had the added advantage of allowing her to keep an eye on the goings-on among the sailors, for every seaman who hit San Diego came into the Bucket O' Blood at one time or another.

It had taken Le some time to travel from San Francisco all the way down to San Diego. When she had finally arrived, she had discovered to her chagrin that Captain Andrew Tiger had shipped out for China.

"He'll be bade next summer," she was told, "if you'd like to sit down and wait." The man laughed uproariously at his own joke.

"I will wait," Le' said. "I shall seek employment, and I will wait for Captain Tiger to return."

"Well, now," the man said, rubbing his chin with his hand, "I don't know what ol' Andy did for you to get you to chase after him so. But, honey, I'm willin' to do the same thing."

"I have never seen Captain Tiger," Le' said.

"You ain't? Then why are you lookin' for him?"

"I am looking for my father."

"Your father, you say?"

"Yes."

The man examined Le' more closely. "Well, I'll be damned. You are half American, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And Andy is your father?"

"I do not know," Le' said.

The man walked around, studying Le' from every, angle. "Well, I don't know," he said. "I s'pose it could be. How old are you?"

"I am twenty-one," Le' said. "My father would have been in Canton in 1860.".

"Andy was there all right," the man said. "At about that time, too. But damn me if I don't think you're too pretty to be a kid of Andy's."

"But there is a possibility?" Le' asked.

"Yes, there is a possibility," the man said. "Like I say, he was there then."

"Did Captain Tiger consort with any Chinese women?" Le' asked.

"Yeah, he did that, honey." The man laughed. "I'd say there's a good chance you found your papa."

"I hope this is so," Le' said.

Le' found employment within a couple of days and worked through the winter. Now with the arrival of summer, she felt that the long wait would soon be over.

"Le', look," a young girl's voice said, and Le' looked around to see fourteen-year-old Becky Conner. Becky was the daughter of the cook, and she frequently came down to the tavern to wait for her mother to finish work so they could walk home together. She was a very pretty young girl and a very pleasant girl who had taken an instant liking to Le'. Le' reciprocated, and she found the young girl bright, witty, and a most engaging conversationalist, regardless of her tender years.

"What is it?" Le' asked.

"It's a poem," she said. "I hope you like it."

"Read it to me," Le' said. Le' was wiping off a table, and she stopped her work as the young girl began to read

"A thousand blossoms perfume the air,

The promise of summer is everywhere.

A quiet pool, serene and blue,

Reflects the—"

"What have you got there, honey, a love letter?" a brutish man asked, grabbing the paper from Becky's hand at that moment.

"Hey, give that back to me—it's mine!" Becky said, and she tried to grab it back, but the sailor gave it to another man who was just as disheveled. When still another man grabbed for it, it was tom into several pieces.

"Why did you do that?" Becky asked, crying tears of frustration and rage.

"Tell her why you did that, Poke," one of the other sailors said, and several of them laughed.

Le' walked over to comfort Becky.

"I just wanted to make sure you wasn't writin' no love poems to anyone but me," Poke said.

"Why would I write a love poem to you?" Becky asked with naive anger.

Poke laughed again. "You'll be writin' lots of 'em to me, honey, once you see what I can do for you." He started to reach out and touch her, but Le' stepped between them. Poke looked at Le', and she saw that the lust which had been born by his desire for the young girl was just as enflamed when he looked at her.

"Well, now, lookie here, lookie here," Poke said. "Gents, I do believe the little China girl is a mite jealous. Are you jealous, honey, that ol' Poke was payin' attention to this little filly and was leavin' you out?"

"Please," Le' said, "Leave the girl alone. She is very young."

"Well I likes 'em young," Poke said, and he grabbed himself, then thrust his hips forward obscenely. "I says if they are old enough to bleed they are old enough to breed, and I'd be bettin' this youngin' is havin' her monthlies already."

Poke reached for Becky, and when he did, Le' slapped his arm away. He smiled at her, showing yellowed crooked teeth. His breath was as foul as he was ugly.

"Leave this place," Le' said.

"You want me to leave?" Poke said. "All right, I'll leave. I don't want to make no trouble around here." He turned and started walking away.

"Becky, let me take you home," Le' said, putting her arm around the young girl.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Becky asked. "I don't want you to get in trouble for leaving work."

"She won't get into any trouble, Becky," the tavern owner said. "And I would feel better if I knew you were safe at home."

"All right," Becky said. "Let me tell my mom."

Le' waited as Becky went back into the kitchen. The tavern owner came over to speak quietly to her.

"Are you sure you will be all right?" he asked. "I don't like the looks of that discussion over there. It looks to me like they are plannin' some kind of mischief."

Poke had walked away from the table to talk to four of his friends, and now all five of them were leaving by the front door.

"They are gone now," Le' said. 'There won't be any more trouble."

"I hope not," the tavern owner said. "You two be careful."

"We'll go the back way," Le' said.

Le' and Becky stepped out-the side door and started down the alley for Becky's house. Becky and her mother lived in a boarding house about six blocks from the tavern. Becky's mother cooked for the boarding house by day and for the tavern by night. She needed both jobs to make a living for her and her daughter.

* * *

"It's dark out here," Becky said, shivering slightly. "You aren't frightened, are you?"

"Not with you," Becky said. "I believe you could handle anything."

Le' laughed, a small, lilting laugh. "What makes you think such a thing?"

"I don't know," Becky said. "But I'm right. I know I'm right."

"Becky, perhaps you shouldn't come to the tavern anymore. You are getting older and prettier, and it isn't safe for you."

"You are pretty, and it's safe for you," Becky said. "In fact, you are beautiful."

"It's different with me," Le' said.

"Well, I don't see why. And, anyway, why isn't it safe to be pretty?"

'It's hard to explain," Le' said.

"Well, now, lookie what we have here," an evil voice suddenly rasped, and Le' and Becky tinned around to see Poke grinning at them from the shadows behind one of the buildings which backed onto the alley.

"Le'," Becky said in fear.

"Stay behind me," Le' said quietly.

"Oh, are you goin' to per'tect her now, Chinagirl? Well, I'll just have to get you out of the way and have her all for myself. Then, I intend to share her with my friends, after I'm through with her." He laughed, a foul, wheezing laugh, as four other men, each as evil- looking as he, stepped out to join him.

"Oh, Le', there are five of them," Becky said, and fear so tugged at her throat that she could scarcely speak.

Le' sensed that Becky was about to run. "No," she said, reaching out for her. "Don't run. It will be easier for me to protect you if you stay by me."

Poke laughed again. "Did you hear that boys? The China girl here is goin' to pertect her from all of us."

Le' tensed herself for the battle, holding her arms in front of her in a fighting pose. The men, used to seeing fighters clench their fists, were amused by the fact that Le's hands were held palm-open.

"What are you going to do, Missy? Slap us?" Poke said, and everyone laughed at his joke.

Le' watched the muscles in Poke's body, and she knew the instant he was going to lunge at her. She came up on the balls of her feet and leaned slightly to one side as Poke lunged. She stuck out a leg to trip him, then helped him fall with a quick chop to the back of the head.

One of Poke's companions tried to grab Le', but she took his arm and flipped him high in the air. Poke got up then and shook his head to clear it.

"Come on," he called to the others. "Come on, damn it, rush her"

"What kind of she-devil is she that can handle two men?" one of the other asked.

"I don't know," a companion answered. "But I can tell you I ain't takin' no chances." The speaker reached down and picked up a board. Then, raising it high over his head like a club, he let out a yell and rushed Le', bringing the club, down toward Le's head.

"Le', look out!" Becky screamed.

Le' crooked her arm and shattered the board as it came crashing down.

"What the hell?" the man yelled, holding the stub of the shattered board in his hands. He looked at Le' with panic in his eyes, then he tossed the board to one side and, with the others, turned and ran away.

"Cowards!" Becky called, laughing at them. "You are all cowards, chased away by a woman!"

News of Le's treatment of the five men soon spread, and she became a reluctant heroine. She would have much rather avoided the publicity. But there was a residual benefit from it, for when Captain Andrew Tiger returned to San Diego she didn't have to go look him up—he looked her up.

It was early afternoon and just starting to rain when a lone customer came into the bar. He ordered a beer, took it to his table, and drank quietly, reflectively, as he watched the heavy drops fall. When he turned his eyes back inside the tavern, he looked at Le'.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked.

"I am Le'sing," Le' said.

"I hear you can handle yourself pretty well in a fight"

"I was fortunate," Le' said quietly.

"Fortunate? I'd say skilled in the martial arts. Are you a priestess?".

"I have taken no vows," Le' said, surprised that the man even knew of such a thing. She looked at him with renewed curiosity. "You know about choeng-te?"

"Yes," the man said. "I have spent much time in China. I am Captain Andrew Tiger."

Le' felt a surge of excitement bolt through her, and she took a hesitant step toward the man. There was a look of eagerness on her face—and hope and curiosity. "I ... I have been searching for you," she said.

"I know," Captain Tiger answered. He was a large man, with a bushy head of white hair. He took a drink of his beer and looked at her over the glass, and Le' felt a sense of warmth about him. If he were her father, she would be glad.

"Are you . . . my father?" Le' finally asked.

Captain Tiger set the glass down and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"I've asked myself that since I heard you were making such a search. And the honest truth is, girl, I don't know. Tell me about your mother."

"I do not remember my mother," Le' said. "She died when I was born."

Captain Tiger let out a sigh. "Well, we are going to have a difficult time finding out, aren't we?"

"I have three questions to ask," Le' said. "If you know the answer to the questions, you are my father."

"All right, ask them."

"What lies beyond the inner door of the golden pagoda?"

"I don't know," Captain Tiger said.

"What secret did the garden jasmines hide?"

"Is this some sort of riddle?" Captain Tiger asked. "I don't know that, either."

"Who is Tsu?"

Captain Tiger gave a little laugh of confusion. "I have to confess, Le', that I don't know the answer to any of those question. Do you?"

"I only know the answers in the letter my mother wrote," Le' said. "I do not know the meaning of the answers, though if I get the correct answers, I am to say more about the woman Tsu, and this shall have meaning for my father."

"Is your father supposed to know the answers to those question?"

"Yes," Le' said, now obviously disappointed that this search had borne no fruit.

"Tell me, girl, what made you think I might be your man in the first place? There are thousands of seamen who have been to China."

Le' explained the ideogram for Big Cat.

"I see," Captain Tiger said, laughing. "Well, that does make it a bit difficult. It's almost like a puzzle isn't it? Yes, I could see how you might be led to me. I wish I could have been your pa, girl. You are as beautiful a woman as I've ever laid eyes on, and whether you took the vows or not, I know you've trained in choeng-te, and that means you had to go to a cloister somewhere. Where was it, Shal Minh?"

"Shan Tal," Le' said.

"Shan Tal. Yes, I've heard of it. It's in the mountain, near—" Suddenly Captain Tiger stopped. "Mountain Lion," he said, snapping his fingers.

"Mountain Lion?"

"There was a fella I knew back then who was first mate on one of the ships on the China trade. He was a big, strong fella, and the word was he once killed a mountain lion by squeezing it to death, so they took to calling him that. Let's see, what was his last name?"

"Do you think he might be my father?" Le' asked. "There's only one way to find out," Tiger said, "and that's go ask him. Jones, that was his name." He laughed. "I reckon that's why I had a hard time thinking of it. Jones seems such a common name and all. Mountain Lion Jones they called him."

"Do you know where I might find Mr. Mountain Lion Jones?" Le' asked.

"Yeah, come to think of it, I do know," Tiger said. "He's over around Phoenix, some place, looking for gold. I heard he took him an Indian squaw, too—an Apache."

"Where is Phoenix?"

"Phoenix, you know, it's a town out 'n the desert" He chuckled. "You get yourself a ticket going East on the Southern Pacific and you can't miss it."

"I will go to Phoenix," Le' said.

# Chapter 19

The train lay still, stretched out along the track like some gigantic dying serpent. Occasionally a window was thrust up with a swoosh, as the passengers inside sought some relief from the heat. It was early afternoon, and the Arizona sun baked the desert between Yuma and Phoenix into a wavering blur.

Le' had bought a train ticket to Phoenix on the Southern Pacific, using the money she had saved by working in the Bucket O' Blood. She was riding in the immigrant car, so called because it was the cheapest passage available and, with its wooden benches, was a world away from the Wagner and Pullman parlor cars, which took passengers across country in unequaled luxury.

Le' shielded her eyes against the desert glare and looked out at the barren landscape. There was nothing to see but rock, sand, sheer mountain and cliff walls, and a few patches of scrub weed or cactus.

The train had been stopped for several minutes, for no apparent reason, and she was beginning to wonder if it was going to ever move again. The passengers were suffering in the heat as they baked under the white hot sun, but, as was often the case among the immigrant passengers, no one was complaining. Finally, a conductor came to the car with a worried expression on his face.

"Folks, I'm awful sorry about this delay," he said, holding his hands up. "But there's a sheriff's posse outside, and they've blocked the track. We'll just have to sit here until they clear our passage."

"But why have they blocked the track?" someone asked. "Is there a criminal on board?"

"No. There's some Indians broke off the reservation, and the sheriff thinks maybe they've holed up in some rocks just ahead."

"What has that got to do with our train?"

"I'm afraid our track comes under the line of fire," the conductor said, "The sheriff is only concerned for our safety."

Le' sat back in her seat, fanning herself futilely.

"The thing is, we might all die of suffocation if we stay here much longer," the conductor added, voicing what many were thinking. "And then they won't have to be concerned over our safety."

"How long do you think it will be?" a woman asked. "I don't know, ma'am," the conductor answered. I'm sure it won't be too much longer." He touched his hat in a form of salute, then moved back to the rest of the train.

Le' sat quietly for several more minutes after the conductor had left. The heat continued to collect inside the train in oppressive layers, and her clothes began soaking through with sweat. She looked outside and saw that several people had left the train, and were standing in the shade of the cars, so she decided to do the same thing.

There was a gentle breeze when Le' stepped outside, and it felt so good that Le' didn't know why she hadn't left earlier. She stood there for several more minutes, luxuriating in the blessed relief.

"After standing there for a while, Le' grew bored and she began walking along the line of cars, up to the engine. The engine relief valve was periodically blowing steam, and it sounded like some huge monster drawing its last, gasping breaths. A cluster of men stood around a large boulder beside the engine, looking at an open-spread map. They were all armed and desperate-looking.

"I'm going to ride up this draw and have a look around," one of the men said, pointing to the map.

"You're a damn fool if you do," another man said. "You go up there and they'll shoot you dead, sure's hell."

"That's a chance I'll just have to take," the man said. He turned and started toward his horse, but Le' had come up so close to them that the man bumped into her, nearly knocking her down.

"Oh," Le' said.

"Excuse me, Miss," the man apologized, taking her arms in his strong hands to steady her.

He was a big, bushy man, who had a full beard and long hair. He was wearing a battered felt hat and tattered coat.

"Here, girl, what are you doing here?" a man with a badge shouted at her.

"I was so hot on the train," Le' explained weakly. "I just wanted a little air."

"Well, you get the hell out of our way. I don't have time to play nursemaid," the sheriff said gruffly.

"Sheriff, don't be so rough on the girl," the big, bushy man said. "How would you like to be cooped up inside that train?"

Le' looked into the bushy man's steel-gray eyes and saw a suggestion of humor to go along with his determination and concern.

"I'm sorry I got in your way," Le' said.

"No harm done, Miss," the bushy man said. He let her go, then swung up into his saddle, touched his hat in a salute, and rode off.

"You think he'll have any luck?" one of the men asked the sheriff.

"Like as not he'll get his fool head shot off," another said.

"Maybe not," the sheriff said. "If anyone can talk some sense into those fool Apaches, it'll be Mountain Lion Jones."

"Mountain, Lion Jones?" Le' said, speaking so sharply that the men who had nearly forgotten she was there turned quickly toward her.

"Girl, I thought I told you to get the hell on that train," the sheriff said angrily.

"Was that man Mountain Lion Jones?" Le' asked, pointing in the direction the bushy-haired man had gone.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"I must see him," Le' said. "He is the reason I came to this place."

The sheriff suddenly and inexplicably laughed. "Girl, you mean to tell me that you came all the way out here just to see the likes of Mountain Lion Jones?"

"Yes," Le' said.

"Sheriff, it's too late to get her back in the train," one of the other men said. "The sun's done made her go daft." He and the others laughed at his joke.

"What do you want to see him for?" the sheriff asked.

"I have business with him," Le' said.

"Well, girl, I don't know what your business is, but like as not it ain't gonna come to nothin'. Chances are you done seen as much of him as you're gonna."

"What do you mean?" Le' asked weakly.

"'Cause, if he don't get hisself kilt by those crazy Apaches out there, why, he'll just hightail it off back into the desert with his squaw and brats."

"Where does he live?" Le' asked, and her question was greeted with laughter.

"Well, now, Miss, there's the problem, you see. Ol' Mountain Lion, he's more like an Injun than a white man, 'n he don't live in no one particular place. He just moves aroun' to wherever takes his fancy. That's why I say you won't see him no more. Iffen he hadn't come to us to offer to help get these Injuns back, why, we wouldn' have seen him neither."

"But I must see him," Le' insisted.

"What can I say, girl?" the sheriff asked. "I done tol' you all I know about him. Now you need to get back on the train 'afore the injuns take a notion to start shootin' down this way."

Le' turned away from the men and started back down the path she had just come up. Then, halfway back to her car, she saw another path leading up to the rocks alongside the train, and she decided to follow it for a short distance, hoping to come to a place which would afford a better view of the country the train was going through. The path wound along the base of a red cliff, continued between some rocks, and finally emerged at a small clearing.

A strong arm suddenly grabbed Le', and before she could let out a sound, a hand was clasped over her mouth! Le' pretended to struggle, then she stopped struggling until she felt the slightest relaxation on the grip around her. She tensed, kicked backward with her foot contacting flesh, and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. The arms around her let go, and Le' squatted, then shot up, high, in an acrobatic leap, turning a flip over the head of her captor and landing on the ground behind him. He let out a grunt of surprise and turned to see what had happened to her. When he did, Le' hit him with a forearm smash which sent him sprawling on the ground in front of her.

Her attacker, she could now see, was an Indian; and there were half a dozen more standing around watching in open-mouthed surprise. One of the remaining six held a bow, and he shot an arrow toward Le'. Le' leaped to one side and snatched the arrow out of the air!

Another cocked a rifle and aimed it at Le'. Le', knowing that she was defenseless against this form of attack, dropped the arrow and raised her hands in surrender.

There was a moment of silence as Le' and her captors studied each other. Then the Indians began speaking to each other in their own language, and one of them pointed to his eyes and to his skin.

' "You are not white," the Indian with the rifle finally said.

"No," Le' replied. "I am Chinese."

"Why do you fight for the whites?"

"I do not fight for the whites?"

"You fought us."

"You attacked me."

The Indians spoke among themselves for a bit, then the one who spoke English looked at her. "Why are you here?"

"I am looking for a man called Mountain Lion Jones," Le' said.

The Indian with the rifle made a spitting motion toward the ground. "He is a squaw man," he said. "He is not Indian, and he is not white. Why do you want him?"

"I wish to speak with him," Le said.

"What do you want to talk about, Miss?" a voice suddenly asked. Le' and the Indians were surprised by the sudden appearance of Mountain Lion Jones. He was standing on a rock, holding his rifle leveled toward the Indians who held Le' captive. He said something in a sharp, guttural language, and the Indians all dropped their guns.

"I want to thank you for your fancy movin' a moment ago," Mountain Lion Jones said. "While you was keepin 'em occupied, I was able to get into position and get the drop on 'em. Sheriff!" he called loudly, "Sheriff, come on up, it's all right. I've got the drop on 'em!"

The Indian Le' had knocked out came to. He sat up and shook his head to clear it he saw the others standing with their hands up, then he looked up on the rock and saw Mountain Lion Jones.

"Yep," Mountain Lion said, "it's me. Ain't I the damnedest brother-in-law, though? He chuckled, and about that time the sheriff and several of his men arrived.

"Well," the sheriff said, "so you've got them, huh? Good job, Jones."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"They'll be taken "to Fort McDowell," the sheriff said. 'The Army will deal with them."

"You tell the Army to keep somethin' in mind, will you?" Mountain Lion said.

"What might that be?"

"All these fellas did was to bust loose, drink up a little whiskey, and raise a little hell. Nobody was hurt, and nothin' was took. There ain't no call for the Army to do anythin' to 'em."

"If you are such a friend of these Indians, why did you help us capture them?" the sheriff asked.

Mountain Lion looked at the sheriff and squinted his eyes. "'Cause you sons-of-bitches would'a shot 'em deader 'n hell if you'd found 'em," he said.

The sheriff chuckled. "You're right," he said. "We may have, at that." The sheriff motioned for his deputies to put cuffs on the prisoners, then he noticed Le' as if for the first time.

'What are you doin' up here?" he asked gruffly.

"I came to see Mountain Lion Jones," Le' said.

"Yeah," Mountain Lion said. "The girl came to see me. Let her be, will you?"

The sheriff looked at her for a long moment, as if unable to understand why anyone would be interested in such a man. Finally, shrugging his shoulders to show that he still couldn't understand, he turned and started back toward the track.

The train whistle sounded three times, and the bell began to clang.

"Whatever you got to say to me, girl, you'd better say it fast," Mountain Lion said. "The train's about to leave."

Le' looked back toward the train and then up at Mountain Lion. She wanted time to discuss this with him, to examine him, and to ask him the questions her mother left her. She couldn't do that now and catch the train.

"Well, girl, speak up. What do you want to know?"

"Are you my father?" Le' asked.

"I might be," Mountain Lion said simply.

The core samples were showing color at last. They were showing very little color—in fact, such a small amount that most prospectors would consider this a dry dig. But most prospectors weren't looking for what Mike was looking for. He was looking for the main vein, the mother lode, and he knew what kind of mineral pattern the rocks and soil around the mother lode would have. And these core samples showed just that pattern.

"It's here," Mike said, speaking aloud even though he was alone. "That son-of-a-bitch is right here, right under my feet!"

Mike let out a whoop, and he was answered with his own echo. The return of his echo surprised him, for he had been used to going many days and nights with never a sound. Someone else might have heard him; if so, they might come to investigate the cause of his joyous shout. Mike didn't want to let anyone else in on his secret right now, so such shouts were ill- conceived. In an unconscious gesture, he put his hand over his mouth as if further insuring his silence.

Mike knew that he would have to stake out a working claim on the sides of this mountain. The whole mountain had been staked at one time or another, but most of the claims were abandoned, so there shouldn't be any problem. All he would have to do is stake it out, then go into the nearest county seat and register it

Mike took some stakes and a red handkerchief from his equipment bag. He tore the handkerchief into small red strips and paced off his claim, leaving the markers at each comer. Then he started building a cone of rocks in the center, as required by law. There he would leave a piece of paper outlining the dimensions of his claim, the date, and his claim number. And that was when Mike saw it.

The mound of rocks was not immediately visible, because it looked a little like a natural rock outcropping. But as Mike looked at it a second time, it became obvious that the mound was man-made. Someone else had already staked this property out!

Angrily, Mike walked over to the mound and started digging down inside for the note. Whose could it be? He had been all over this ground, and he hadn't seen any indications of a prior claim. How had he missed this one?

Inside the cone there was a rusty old can; inside the can, wrapped in oilcloth, Mike found a piece of paper.

* * *

CLAIM NOTICE I hereby take claim of this location, bordered by the streambed on the South the gulley on the East, the large rock outcropping on the West, and the top of the mountain on the North. Claim Number L-201,

July 15, 1866.

* * *

Fifteen years ago, Mike mused. The law would clearly be on his side now. It was very specific: if a claim had been obviously abandoned, it could be taken by someone else. Mike had been on this mountain for several months now, and he had seen no one. He didn't have to worry about this old claim.

Mike started to throw the claim paper away, then, on second thought, stuck it into his shirt pocket.

Claim-jumping, theft, and murder were the only crimes that seriously disturbed miners. In the early days when such crimes occurred, a meeting was speedily convened to deal with the suspect Judge, jury, prosecutor, and defender were elected, and the trial went on at once. If the suspect was found guilty, he received a sentence which could be executed without delay, because the new mining camps had few jails. No one wanted to build, pay for, or guard them. The penalties were often severe, and included mutilation, then removal of an ear or a finger. Flogging was common, and hangings were routine.

With the coming of civilization, the miners' courts were abandoned and law took over, but regard for the letter of the law was still high among miners.

If someone wanted to cause Mike trouble over this claim—for example if Jason Powers discovered the value of the claim—he could look up the old claimant, buy his claim, and then proceed to bring a lawsuit against Mike. Mike had no assurances that he would be protected by the rights of abandonment, since all the miner would have to say is that he had worked the claim at least once every ten days, and the burden of proof that he hadn't would be on Mike.

There was no getting around it. Mike would have to find this claimant and if he was still alive, buy the claim from him.

Mike buried his own claim stake, then hurried back to the shack he had taken over and changed clothes to go into town. He found that he was looking forward to the trip—not only because he was anxious to enter his claim but because he was anxious for some of the benefits of civilization.

# Chapter 20

The clerk had a face like a hawk, pinched toward a long nose which would be the hawk s beak, upon which there perched a pair of thick rimless glasses. He had a large, leather-bound book open in front of him, and he went through the pages of the book, running his finger down the ink scratchings of numbers and letters while humming a tuneless little song under his breath.

Mike grew impatient waiting for him and started to walk around behind the counter, but the clerk waved him back.

I'm sorry, my good fellow," the clerk said. "But only authorized clerks are allowed behind the counter."

"I just thought that if I looked, too, we might find it faster," Mike said.

"I will find it," the clerk said. "I've been doing this same job for over ten years. I daresay, I do know what I'm doing."

"I'm sure that you do," Mike said.

"Ah, here it is," the clerk said triumphantly, "claim L-201, July fifteenth, 1866."

"Who filed it?" Mike asked.

"Oh, heavens, I'm afraid we don't have that information."

"What do you mean you don't?"

"The claim numbers are all we need here. The registrar will have to tell you who the claim number belongs to."

Mike sighed. "Where will I find the registrar?"

"It so happens you are in luck," the clerk said. He smiled as if perpetrating a great joke. "I happen to be the registrar, as well."

"Would you please tell me who this claimant is?"

"There is a one-dollar searching fee for finding the claim . . ." the clerk said. He cleared his throat ". . . and another dollar for finding out who filed the claim."

"But you haven't told me anything yet that I don't know," Mike protested.

"I'm sorry," the clerk said. "Those are the rules."

Mike sighed. Paying the search fees would take two of the last ten dollars he had.

"All right," he said, "look up the name for me."

The clerk took the claim book away, brought out another leather-bound book which looked just like the first, and started through it. This time, thankfully, he didn't take as long.

"The only name we have for him is 'Sailor,'" the clerk said.

"Sailor? You mean that's his name?" Mike asked in confusion.

"It's all the name we have."

"But is that legal?"

"It's legal if it is a name by which one commonly goes and a name which can serve to identify him. Here, look for yourself," the clerk said, turning the book around to show it to Mike. "Here's his signature"

Mike looked at the penmanship, which spelled out Sailor L.

"What is the TJ for?" Mike asked.

The clerk turned the book back and peered at it through his glasses. "Oh, yes, I didn't notice that Well, the 'L' is obviously a clue to his last name."

Mike sighed and looked at the signature. It was big and bold, had heavy down strokes and shading on the letters "S" and "L". Strangely, it resembled a penmanship that Mike had seen before, a penmanship which wasn't the usual scrawl but written for style as well as for information.

"That will be two dollars, please," the clerk said, holding out his hand.

"I'll give you one dollar and no more," Mike said. "Not unless I have a little more information on this man, Sailor."

"I could call the sheriff," the clerk said.

"Go ahead," Mike replied. "He'll throw me in jail for a few days, and I'll have free room and board and you'll still be out your clerk's fee."

The clerk sighed. "You might try the Gold Pan Saloon," he finally said. "Jake is the bartender, and he's been there for twenty years. I guess he knows about everyone."

"All right," Mike said. He gave the clerk two dollars. "Thanks."

There was a piano in the Gold Pan Saloon. Above it, a neatly lettered sign proudly proclaimed that this was the only piano between San Francisco and Sacramento. The sign went on to tell how the piano was shipped out West from New York, reaching California by doubling the Cape and coming by freighters wagon from San Francisco to the mining town of Tailings.

"Do you play the piano, Mister?" someone from behind the bar asked.

Mike looked over in surprise. "No," he said. "I was just reading your sign."

"It's too bad," the bartender said. The bartender was polishing glasses and stacking them in a large pyramid on a shelf behind the bar. 'We brought that damn thing in here, and then the piano player got shot for not playin' the right song. Now it just sits there."

"You mean nobody in Tailings can play it?"

"There ain't nobody in Tailings 'ceptin' people who work the mine fields," the bartender said, "and the people who work the miners: bartenders, whores, lawyers, and the like."

Mike walked over to the bar and put his foot on the rail. "Let me have a whiskey," he said. The bartender poured a glass and handed it to him. Mike held it out toward him. "Here's to you," he said, then tossed the drink down. It was the first liquor he had drunk since ... He stopped to think: since when? Then he remembered: not since the night he had gotten drunk after his scene with Le'.

"You workin' a claim?" the bartender asked.

"I'm poking around," Mike said. "I'm not working anything yet." He was very careful not to say anything which might compromise his efforts on Sourdough Mountain, so he spoke very casually. "By the way, do you know a man named Sailor?"

"What are you lookin' for Sailor for?" the bartender asked.

"You mean you do know him?" Mike asked. Even though he tried to sound casual, the anxiousness in his voice came through.

"I might," the bartender said. "It depends on what you want him for."

"I might want to do a little business with him," Mike said.

The bartender gave a short, gruff laugh. "Mister, I don't know what kind of business you think you can do with Sailor, but my guess is it is not much. He's the barroom drunk."

Mike looked around the barroom, but other than two or three women sitting around a table in the corner—Mike guessed that they were whores waiting for the evening trade—there was no one present.

"Where does he stay?" Mike asked.

"Around," the bartender said noncommittally. "I guess it depends on what kind of business you have with him."

"My business is only with him," Mike said.

"Then you find him," the bartender said. He turned and started to walk away.

"Wait," Mike said. "It's important that I find him." He took out a dollar and lay it on the counter.

The bartender came back and looked at the dollar, then slid it back across the bar to Mike.

"Look, Sailor ain't much," he said. "He's just a drunk, down on his luck. But I've had a feelin' ever since I've known him that there was somethin' more to him, you know what I mean? Sailor was once somethin' special. I don't know what happened to him 'cause he don't talk about it none. He never complains at all. He just keeps quiet and minds his own business. Now I don't intend to sell him out for a dollar or for thirty pieces of silver. So just keep your money."

"I want to buy his claim," Mike said.

"What claim?"

"His claim on Sourdough Mountain."

The bartender laughed. "Mister, what kind of fool do you take me for?"

"Why?"

"'Cause if Sailor has a claim up there, which I doubt, then it has long been abandoned and you don't have to buy it All you have to do is work it, though God knows why you would want to."

"It isn't that simple," Mike said. He didn't want to tell the real reason that he wanted absolute clear title to the claim because he didn't want it out that the mother lode might be there. He decided he would have to lie. "You see, I represent an eastern combine, and they are looking for metals other than gold, things like copper and tin. They think Sourdough Mountain might be a good place to look, but they are frightened of any lawsuits which might get in the way. They feel it is much better to buy off any claims now for a little money than to run the risk of a court tie-up later on."

"What are you willing to give Sailor for his claim?" the bartender asked.

"That's for Sailor lo decide, I think," Mike said.

The bartender rubbed his chin. "Do you think you could give him one hundred dollars?"

One hundred dollars? Mike thought. He might as well ask for one thousand or one million. Mike had less than eight dollars to his name, now that he had paid for the drink. But if the dig proved out, he would have no trouble raising as much money as he needed. And he had said that he was being backed by an eastern concern. He couldn't say he didn't have that much money.

"I don't know," Mike answered slowly, "that's considerably more money than the people back east wanted to pay for any claims," he said. "Why do you think it would be worth that much? It's been abandoned for fifteen years."

"It probably isn't worth that much," the bartender said easily. "I just thought that one hundred dollars might go a long way toward buying back his dignity."

"Jake, I don't believe I could buy back my dignity with ten thousand dollars," a voice said, "Let alone a hundred."

Mike looked toward the sound of the voice and saw a large man with a shock of white hair and a full beard. He had just stepped through a door leading to the bar from a back room.

"This is Sailor," Jake said, pointing a thumb toward the man. "He sweeps around the place for me, and I give him a room to live in at the back of the saloon."

"Most adequate quarters too, I might say," Sailor added. "Tight against the weather, and all the room a body like me might ever need."

There was something hauntingly familiar about the man, about his voice and demeanor, but when Mike tried to grab hold of it, it slipped away from him like quicksilver.

The man walked over to the bar and stood beside Mike, looking him in the eyes. The nagging sense of familiarity increased.

"Do I ... do I know you, Sir?"

"I don't know," Sailor said. "I've been a few places and met a few people in my day," Sailor said. "So, you would be talkin' some business with me, would you?"

"Aye," Mike said.

When Mike answered with a nautical affirmative, the man looked at him in sharp surprise.

"I'm sorry," Mike said, "I guess it just slipped out."

He laughed. "I was at sea myself once, and you just reminded me of that time."

"You've not got the looks of a seaman," Sailor said, "It's been a long time," Mike said. "And I've done many things since then—rode the mail circuit, rode shotgun guard for Wells Fargo, mined, prospected—and it's for that that I've come to see you, I want to buy your claim."

"What claim is that?"

"You have a claim on Sourdough Mountain, don't you?"

Sailor ran his hand through his white hair and squinted his eyes in deep thought. "Seems like I once did," he said. "I don't recollect."

"The claim is still on file," Mike said. "Now by law, it's been abandoned. But I'm willing to pay you something for the rights to it."

"Buy me a drink," Sailor said.

Mike signaled to the bartender, who poured a drink into Sailor's glass. Sailor tossed the drink neatly. "It's yours, Mister—you just bought it," he said.

"What? What do you mean?"

"If I've had a claim up there for that long and don't even remember it, I figure a free drink is like found money," he said. "The claim is yours. I give it to you."

"No," Mike said. "I'm willing to give you more than that. But I want you to come down and sign it over to me." He took out his watch and flipped open the case. "Let's see, we've still got a few minutes before—"

The man suddenly reached his hand out for Mike's watch. He held it and stared at it for a long time. When he finally looked up at Mike, Mike saw deep into his eyes, saw there years of sorrow, pain, and suffering. And then Mike knew.

"Who are you, Mister? And how came you by this watch?"

Mike stared at Sailor for a long moment before he answered. "You gave it to me, Cap'n Lyons. You gave it to me more than twenty years ago."

Captain Lyons squinted at Mike, and a light came back to his eyes.

"Michael Kelly, is it you, boy?"

"Aye, Cap'n, it's me," Mike said.

Captain Lyons broke into a wide smile, then put his big arms around Mike, squeezing him in a bear hug. He patted Mike on the back, then broke away from him and stood back, looking at him for a moment "Sure'n, you're a sight for these sore eyes," he said. "Cap'n, I had no idea it was you," he said.

A cloud suddenly returned to Lyons' eyes. "And I can't blame you, lad," he said. "For 'tis a disreputable beast I have become." He looked around the barroom. 'I've descended to the bowels of hell, my boy. I earn my daily keep with a broom and pass nearly every night in drunken slumber. If it weren't for the kindness of a few good people now and then, such as Jake here, I would have been dead long ago. And often I've wished that I were dead "

"You two know each other?" Jake asked, surprised by the way the conversation was going.

"Jake, this is Michael Kelly. Michael shipped with me some time back."

"Why did you call him Captain?" Jake asked. "Because that's what he was," Mike said. "The finest captain ever to command a clipper ship."

"No one knew he had been a captain," Jake said, looking at Lyons with a sense of awe. "We just thought he'd been a sailor."

"'Twas all I wanted you to think," Lyons said rather gruffly. "I didn't want to add to the burden of shame by letting you know how far down I'd come."

"I should have never left the _Thunderbolt_ that day," Mike said.

"Don't go blaming yourself for anything," Lyons said. "I am of my own making. Now, if you still want to go down to the clerk's office, come along and we'll sign over that claim."

"No," Mike suddenly said. "No, I don't want to do that. I'd rather do something else."

"What?"

"Cap'n, come work it with me."

Lyons laughed. "Michael, you don't know what you are asking of me. I was only out there for a couple of months. I once got the wild idea that if I could strike it rich in the gold fields, I could buy a new ship and get back to the sea. But it didn't take me long to figure out what a fool notion that was, so I left the fields and I've never been back."

"Captain, please, come with me," Mike said. "Listen, I've spent most of the last twenty years doing this one thing. I've worked as superintendent for the Powers Mines, I've prospected, I've planned, I've done everything, and, I'm telling you, it is worth our time to' go out there."

"I couldn't go even if I wanted to," Lyons said. "I owe Jake here about three months' work for food, drink, and quarters."

"You go on if you want to, Sailor . . . uh, Captain," Jake said quietly. He looked at Mike. "Mister, I know there's not a damn thing on Sourdough Mountain. But, damn, listening to you talk, I'd almost be willin' to join you myself. The thing is, I don't know anything about tin."

"Tin?" Sailor asked.

"Yeah," Jake said. He laughed. 'Tour friend Mike is from some big outfit in the East. They aren't interested in gold."

"Come on," Mike said. "I'll tell you all about it on the way back out there." He felt it would be best not to mention gold again until he and Captain Lyons were well clear of the town of Tailings and halfway to Sourdough Mountain.

Mike felt good. In fact, he felt wonderful. He needed only one thing to make his life complete now, but he didn't even think of that. Because every time he did, he felt a dull ache in his heart. Yet, unbidden, thoughts of Le' intruded, even at this happy time.

# Chapter 21

Mountain Lion Jones could not answer Le's questions, so once again she was to be disappointed in her quest for her father. But Mountain Lion Jones was a wealth of information about Canton and the American sailors in 1860. So when Le' was invited to spend some time in the Apache village, she willingly agreed to stay in order to learn as much as she could from the stories told by Jones.

Le' liked the Indians, and they liked her. The Indian culture placed great store on the mystical aspects of Le's powers, and they paid her great respect and asked her if she would do them the honor of becoming a shaman.

"Only a chosen few are given this honor," Mountain Lion Jones explained on the night the initiation was to take place. Le' was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hogan, eating the meal Mountain Lion Jones's wife had prepared for them. Children crawled around on the floor of the hogan, and a large dog moved in and out with arrogant impunity.

"Why was I chosen?" Le' asked. "I used my powers to fight against the Indians at the train."

"You may have been their enemy, but you were an enemy who earned their respect," Mountain Lion said. He tore the leg from a roasted rabbit and continued to eat. "You know the Apache culture is one of war. Until very recently, an Apache didn't even hunt. He lived by plunder. If an Apache needed food, he would attack a village of Navaho or Kachina or Papago. If he needed clothes, why, he would do the same thing. Hunting, farming, weaving—all such labor was beneath an Apache. The result was the development of a culture totally oriented around a person's military skills. An enemy with great skill was as much a hero to the Apache as one of the own. You have reached that place of honor."

"But I don't consider myself an enemy of the Apache," Le' protested.

"The Apache have no enemies; the Apache have no friends," Mountain Lion said. "Their way has died. They can no longer support themselves by war—it isn't allowed by the government. The truth of the matter is that many of the young ones have no stomach for it. Oh, a handful of them might go out and raise hell everyone in a while, and some of them might even steal a few head of cattle. When they do, the soldiers come out after 'em, and they have to leave the village."

"Do you think the old way of war should continue?" Le' asked.

"If it could continue in the old way, there would be no harm done," Mountain Lion said. "But the old way is gone forever. You know, before the white men came, Indians would fight wars which would go on for years, and no one would ever be killed."

"How could this be?" Le' asked.

Mountain Lion laughed. "It's simple. You see, there was much honor in Indian battle. It was an honor to count coup upon your enemy—that is, to go up to him and touch him with your coup stick. It was an honor to be able to steal from your enemy. But it was an honor only if your enemy was alive. If he was alive, you see, then he could try to prevent you from counting coup or from stealing his livestock. If he was dead, there was nothing he could do to stop you. There was great dishonor in killing." Mountain Lion laughed a short, bitter laugh. "It took the white men to show the Indian how to kill."

"I see," Le' said. "In many ways, in ways of honor and tradition, the Indian seems like my people."

"I know," Mountain Lion said. "I think, after having spent so much time in China, that I realized that same thing, and that is why I chose to come and live with these people when I left the sea."

"The Indians at the train did not pay you honor," Le' said. 'They called you a squaw man and said you were neither white nor Indian."

"They were angry," Mountain Lion said. "Anger loosens the tongue of all men and makes them say things they do not believe. I have no bad feelings for them for saying such a thing."

"One who spoke was my brother," the Indian woman who was Mountain Lion Jones's wife said.

"Come," Mountain Lion Jones said. "It is time. The ceremony to make you a shaman begins soon."

When Le' stepped out of the hogan, she was met by two young men who escorted her to a circle in the center of the village. An elaborate sand painting had been constructed in the open area, utilizing sand of red, white, yellow, and various shades of gray from nearly white to black.

"The painting depicts the universe," Mountain Lion said. 'It was begun before the sun rose this morning, and all the sand used possesses magic, for it had been gathered only at those places where great magic has occurred"

"Here," one of the Indians said, pointing to a geometric design of yellow sand, "at this place, my grandfather lay dying for water. As he lay there an eagle swooped down, landed on a cactus, and began drinking water from a hole. My grandfather found the hole and he drank his fill of water that was cool and sweet. Then he gathered sand from around the cactus because that was a magic place, and this is that same sand."

Other Indians told Le' stories of the other shades of sand, each story involved the significance of some strange and wonderful event. Finally, the gay chatter and the boasting and the story telling stopped, to be replaced by a loud hissing noise.

"What is it?" Le asked.

"It is the dance of the serpent," Mountain Lion replied. "See? On the rocks above."

Le' looked up, and there, poised on a rock outcropping approximately fifty feet above them, she saw a young man, finely muscled and wearing jewelry of silver and turquoise. On his head he wore a crown of silver, shaped like a coiled snake. He was half crouched, with his knees bent and pointed to his left His hands were held together in a prayer like attitude, with his arms raised over his head. He was looking to the right, so that the illusion created was one of serpentine coils, though he was a man.

The hissing of the villagers grew louder. It was accompanied by a low humming noise. Soon the humming was joined by drums and rattles.

The man on the rock began undulating his body to the pulsating rhythm, now crouching all the way to the ground, now stretching up on tiptoe. His thighs, stomach, and pelvis jerked from side to side and forward and back.

The dancer leaped backward disappearing from view. A moment later he reappeared on another rock fifteen feet below the first. He continued his dance and again leaped backward to reappear again on a rock several feet below.

Finally, the dancer was on the ground. The rhythm of the music had become more insistent, and the dancer writhed and slithered his way until he stood before Le', only inches away. Le could see every muscle of the man's body working under his skin. Then a strange and mysterious thing happened. It seemed to Le' as if the dancer were actually transformed into a serpent, so powerful was his interpretation and so enthralled with the dance was Le'.

Finally, the dance ended. The dancer let out a shout, then turned and ran back up the side of the mountain, leaping from rock to rock with the ease of a, mountain goat until he disappeared.

"Now, you must go into the tent—there, to eat the peyote buttons and gain the magic," Mountain Lion said.

Le' went toward the tent as instructed. Inside, she saw soft furs spread upon the ground. A small clay bowl was next to one of the furs, and she was told to sit on the fur and eat from the bowl.

"What shall I do then?" Le' asked.

"Nothing," Mountain Lion said. He laughed. "It will all be done for you."

Le' didn't question any further, taking her seat as instructed. When one of the Indians held the bowl out for her, she took some of the small buttons and chewed them.

"Make no effort to silence the feelings and visions which will come to you," Mountain Lion told Le'. "You must see through the illusion to what is pleasant and good, and separate it from what is painful and evil." As Mountain Lion continued to provide his guidance, his face seemed to slip away from his body and float before Le' as a projection. Mountain Lions body turned into a wisp of smoke and curled up through a hole in the top of the tent. Then Le' saw brilliant bars of color all around. The world around her seemed muted and diffused, and she turned her eyes inward.

There, standing in crisp white snow against a bright blue sky high on top of a mountain, a beautiful Chinese woman stood, smiling and holding her arms out toward her.

"Who are you?" Le' asked.

"I am in your eyes always," the woman said. "But I am like the eye which see though cannot see itself."

"Why have you come to me now?" Le' asked.

"I have not come to you, for you have never left. You see me, yet you see me not. You hear me, yet you hear me not. I am here, yet I am not here. If you reach for me, you cannot grasp me. If you grasp me, you cannot hold me. Yet I will never leave."

"Are you . . . are you my mother?" Le' asked in awe.

"If that is your truth."

"But what is your truth?"

"My truth is my truth," the woman answered. "Each must live with his own truth."

"Yes," Le' said. "Such are the teaching of Shan Tal."

"Yet you deny the truth," the woman said.

"I do not understand."

"Have you not denied love?"

"I deny love so that I may fulfill the mission for which I was born."

"Do not deny the stream of your life, and it will flow as it will flow," the woman said. "When a fish swims, he swims on and on, and there is no end to the water. When a bird flies, he flies on and on, and there is no end to the sky. From the most ancient times there was never a fish who swam out of the water nor a bird who flew out of the sky. The fish and bird are made by life. Thus there are the fish, the water, and the life, and all three create each other. If there were a bird who wanted to examine the size of the water or a fish who wanted to examine the extent of the sky, neither would ever find its own way."

"I see," Le' said. "You would have me return to the love I have denied"

"No."

"I do not understand."

"The wild geese do not intend to cast their reflection, for the water had no mind to receive their image."

"I am not the water," Le' said. "I have a mind."

"Yes," the beautiful woman said. As Le looked, she began to take on a glow, shining brighter and brighter, until soon she glowed so brightly that Le couldn't look at her.

"Here," Mountain Lion was saying. "Drink this."

Le' was lying in bed in Mountain Lion's cabin, and he was holding her head up, giving her water from a gourd.

"Are you back with us now?" Mountain Lion asked with a small lilt of humor to his voice.

"Yes," Le said. She looked around and saw Mountain Lion's wife and children standing by the bed, looking at her with anxious faces. "Did I cry out?" she asked.

"Yes," Mountain Lion said. "But you were speaking in Chinese, and I couldn't understand."

Mountain Lion s wife said something, and Mountain Lion translated it. "Tekana wants to know who the other woman was."

"How does she know of another woman?" Le' asked. Mountain Lion translated the question, and Tekana answered. "Because she saw her," Mountain Lion said. "Tekana has the gift of sharing visions. She says that the woman was a very beautiful woman and that she was standing in snow on the top of a mountain. She said the mountain was not a mountain we can reach, but is far away."

"The woman was my mother," Le' said.

Tekana spoke again after Mountain Lion gave her Le's answer.

"Your mother was the daughter of a great chief," Mountain Lion said. "A chief who had many, many villagers under him. He was chief to more villagers than there are in the nations of the Apache, Navajo, Papago, Kachina, and Kiowa combined. He was the greatest chief in your country." Mountain Lion paused for moment, then added his own question. "Who was your mother?"

"I do not know," Le' said. The letter says nothing of her past. It contains only mysteries which will be cleared by my father when I find him."

"I wish I could do that for you," Mountain Lion said. "I seek no more," Le' said.

"You mean you are giving up?"

"No," Le' said, smiling quietly. "But in not seeking, I shall find."

"I hope so," Mountain Lion said. "You are a fine person, Le', and only the best should come to you."

"And you really think there is gold down there, eh, Michael-lad?" Jim Lyons was sitting at a rough-hewn table in Mike's cabin, drinking black coffee. He had drunk great quantities of coffee during the day, and now, safely returned to his mountain, Mike confided in him for the first time.

"I am convinced of it," Mike said. "All the surveys forecast such an event when I was with the Powers Mine Number Eight, and now my findings over here confirm it"

"How are we going to get it out?" Lyons asked.

Mike spread open a map of the mountain. He kept it open by placing the lantern on one side, the coffee pot on another, a book on the top, and his own coffee cup on the bottom. "Look," he said, "Here is our cabin." He pointed to a small square. "And here is where I think the vein lies." He drew an imaginary line with his finger. "Over here is an abandoned mine shaft that was worked, oh, as recently as three years ago. But it's clear now—I check it—it belongs to anyone who wants to work it. I propose we go in here, start a new cut in this direction, and just work our way toward the vein."

"How long will that take?" Lyons asked, taking another slurping swallow of his coffee.

"That I can't say," Mike said. "There will only be the two of us, it will be slow going, and it will be tough work. But if we confine it to the two of us, we can keep it a secret. We have to do that, Captain, or someone can tap into the vein from another angle and work it out right from under our noses."

"Aye, 'tis right that we keep such a thing quiet," Lyons said. He swallowed die last of his coffee. "When would you want to be starting?"

"I'll make the first blast in the morning, and we can begin mucking it out."

"That will be hard enough work, all right," Lyons said. "Like as not, it'll keep me sober for a while."

Mike walked around the table, put his hand on Captain Lyons's shoulder and squeezed it. "You'll do fine, Captain, I know you will," he said.

Lyons reached up and touched Mike's hand, as if thanking him for his vote of confidence, then he got up and walked over to the bunk. He lay down and folded his arms behind his head and looked at the bunk above him for a while.

"Did you ever return to the sea, Michael?" he asked. "No," Mike said. He gave a small laugh. "I told you I wasn't a sailor."

"No, and it turns out I wasn't either," Lyons said. "For the truth is, lad, the _Thunderbolt_ was not only my last command, it was also my last time at sea."

"What happened?" Mike asked. "I mean, after I left Where did you go? What did you do?"

"I went straight down," Lyons said. He sighed. "Tis easy enough to say I was done in by the love of a woman, and many's the time I spun that sad tale in return for a drink or two. But the truth is 'twas my own cowardice which did me in."

"Cowardice? How so?" Mike asked, surprised by the comment.

"If I hadn't been such a coward, I would have taken Pai by force on that night in the golden pagoda. Yes, and Tsu too, to keep her out of danger. As it is, I let them convince me that I should leave. Then, later, when I heard . . . when I heard ..."

"About the execution of Lo Ching's daughter?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Lyons said. "I am responsible for that. I killed Pai, and our baby, as surely as if I had wielded the headman's ax myself." He sighed. "I've taken many a drink trying to blot that out of my mind, I tell you."

"Captain, that was so long ago," Mike said. "You mustn't dwell on it anymore."

"You are right," Lyons said. "But dwell on it I have all these years, for in truth, lad, I've had no anchor to cling to. Now, from out of nowhere, you come back." Lyons laughed. "You not only come back, you come back with a gold mine, for God's sake, and you offer me a chance to work with you, and the possibility of getting rich. I tell you now, lad, I don't care whether we strike it rich or not. To find an old friend and a new purpose at this stage of my life is all the wealth I could ever hope for. God bless you, Michael, lad. No man ever had a truer friend."

# Chapter 22

A hired hack pulled to a stop in the alley behind Jason's Powers's house. A small thin man stepped out of his seat, then pulled out a billfold to pay the driver his fare. When he took the billfold out, his hands shook, and he had to grip the wallet tightly to keep from dropping it. The little man counted out the money carefully, handed it to the driver who took it, grunted his thanks, shifted his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, then snapped the reins to his team and drove off.

The man walked through the back gate of the Powers's house, across the terraced back lawn, which was beginning to show a lack of care, and up to the back door where he was personally met by Jason Powers.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Powers," the man said.

Jason Powers escorted his visitor into the parlor and offered him a seat in the dimly lit room. He held out a silver cigar case, but the small, nervous man declined. Jason took one, bit the tip off, spit it out, then lit it from the candle.

"Your note said you have something for me," Jason said impatiently.

"Something which I feel will excite you."

"I'm a jaded man. Very little excites me."

"Gold, perhaps?" the nervous man asked.

Jason laughed. "I own a gold mine," he said. "Why should I get excited over gold?"

The nervous little man coughed. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Powers, there isn't anyone anywhere who doesn't know that the Powers Mines are dried up."

"We are still going full blast," Jason said. "We couldn't do that if we were dried up."

"You are going on your investors' money," the nervous man said. "In fact, the talk is that a lawyer representing the investors will be coming out here soon to see how the money is being spent. If you don't have anything to show for it, the" investment money will be shut off and you'll be out of business."

Jason took a puff on the cigar and stared at his visitor over the glowing end. "All right," he said. "You've got my attention. Now keep talking."

"Like I said, Mr. Powers, I know where there is gold. For a price I will tell you where it is, and you can get it out. That should satisfy your investors."

"I don't get it," Jason said. "Why would you be willing to tell me? Why don't you take it out yourself? You could make a great deal more money."

"There is a very good reason why I can't take it out," the man said. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose. Only then did Jason notice how much like a hawk he looked with his beady little eyes and his long, beaklike nose. "You see, Mr. Powers, a claim has been filed on it. When it was first filed, I thought nothing of it. But last week I saw some assay reports. It is a very valuable claim."

Jason tapped the ash from the end of his cigar. "If a claim has been filed on it, what makes you think I can get to it."

"Mr. Powers, in the past you have shown a certain proclivity for, let us say, bypassing legalities. If you should find some way to reach this gold, then I think the files could be changed, if you were willing to pay the file clerk, and the registrar, enough money to do so."

"I see," Jason said. "And you speak for the file clerk and the registrar, do you?"

The little man smiled, and put his glasses back on. "Yes," he said. "You might say that"

"Who has filed the claim?"

"Mike Kelly," the man said.

This time it was Jason Powers's turn to smile broadly. "Mike Kelly?" he said. "Are you trying to tell me that Mike Kelly has found gold?"

"Is he a friend of yours?" the little man asked, frightened that his well-laid scheme was about to come apart before his eyes.

"A friend?" Jason asked, laughing. "No, I certainly wouldn't call him a friend." He put his cigar down and rubbed his hands together in glee. "So, Mike Kelly has found himself a pot of gold, has he? Well, well, well. I guess I'll just have to take it away from him. Where is it? Certainly not on Sourdough Mountain. That's just a front, isn't it?"

"Mr. Powers, we haven't agreed upon a price yet," the clerk said.

"Suppose I offer you one hundred dollars?" Jason said.

"I would be insulted," the clerk answered. "This information might be worth one million dollars."

"And it might not be worth ten cents," Jason said.

"I'm willing to take my chances," the clerk replied. "I want a percentage of the gross."

"A percentage of the net," Jason said. "After all, Im taking all the risks, I'm investing all the money."

"You mean your investors' money," the clerk said. "It's the same thing," Jason insisted. "It's money that I can get to and you can't."

The clerk sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Very well," he said. "I shall agree to your terms."

Jason smiled. "You won't be sorry," he said. As he stuck out his hand to take the clerk's, he realized that he could manipulate the books to eliminate the clerk's share of any profit. "Now, where is this gold?"

"It's on Sourdough Mountain," the clerk said. "He has no other dig."

"Sourdough Mountain?" Jason ground out his cigar. "It would appear that your information is worth just what you received for it. Nothing. That mountain has been worked by hundreds of prospectors. There is nothing there."

"No," the clerk said. "Don't have a closed mind. I tell you, Kelly's found gold there."

Jason walked over to a buffet and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer one to the clerk. He took a swallow, then looked back at the little man. All right," he said. "If what you say is true, then our deal is still on."

"Good," the clerk said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Now, I thought a good idea might be to find a prior claim, so if you'd like, I'll make one up, then I'll send word to Kelly that he will have to leave the diggin's."

"No," Jason said. He smiled conspiratorially. "If he challenges us in court, we may lose. I would prefer an arrangement that leaves no margin for error. A permanent solution."

The clerk got up to leave and cleared his throat nervously. "Whatever you decide, Mr. Powers, will be fine by me," he said.

"Of course, it will," Jason said. "You have no choice."

The clerk cleared his throat again. "Yes, well, Mr. Powers, I shall be in touch," he said.

"No," Jason replied. "I will get in touch with you. I do not wish you to contact me again. It might arouse suspicions."

"Yes," the clerk said. "Yes, indeed it might. You are quite right, Mr. Powers. I shall wait for you to contact me."

Le' stood on the front porch of Captain Thomas Gates's house and pulled the bellrope. She heard the bell ring inside, and a moment later the front door was opened by Tsien.

"Le'," Tsien said, her eyes flashing brightly, and a large smile lighting up her face. "How wonderful to see you again!"

"I have returned to San Francisco," Le' said, stepping into the house. "And I thought I would come to see you and ask for your help."

"I shall quit my job at once and come with you," Tsien said without the slightest hesitation.

"No, you mustn't do that," Le' said, "unless of course you are being mistreated here?"

"Captain Gates is a very, very nice man," Tsien said. "He treats me wonderfully, and I love working for him. I have thanked you many times for arranging for me to work here."

* * *

"Then I don't understand," Le' said. "Why would you offer to leave his employment?"

"Because I would willingly do so if it would serve you," Tsien said.

"Thank you, my friend," Le' said. "But I do not require such a commitment. I require only information. Perhaps you can tell me where I might find Mike Kelly?"

"I don't know," Tsien said sadly. "I have not seen him, nor have I heard about him. Please forgive me, Mistress, for failing you in this way."

"It isn't a failure," Le' said, and she touched Tsien's hand in such a way that Tsien knew she had been forgiven.

Tsien and Le' were standing in the parlor talking when Captain Gates came from the back of the house to see what was going on. He smiled when he saw Le'.

"Le', how nice to see you again. Did you just return?" he asked.

"Yes," Le' said. "I am honored to see you again, Captain Gates."

"How was your trip to San Diego?" Captain Gates asked. "Did you find your father?"

"No," Le' said.

"I'm sorry," Captain Gates said. "I thought perhaps that that man there might be the one."

"Captain Gates, may we invite Le' to take supper with us and to rest here for the night?" Tsien asked.

"Of course, of course!" Captain Gates said. "I ask your forgiveness that I did not extend the offer sooner. Please, you must do me the honor of staying. Not one night but several. Move in if you like."

"The honor is mine," Le' said. "And I shall be glad to stay the night here, though I shall stay no longer. I am searching for Mike Kelly."

Captain Gates smiled. "Yes, I remember him. He was Boykin's superintendent of mines. Why are you looking for him?"

"Because I love him," Le' said simply.

"Then all I can say is he is a lucky man," Captain Gates replied. "And when he sees you, he can stop prospecting. You'll be more treasure than he could ever find up in the hills.".

"Is Mike prospecting?" Le asked.

"Yes," Captain Gates said. "He's told others that he's looking for tin for some Eastern investors. But I believe it's just a smoke screen. I think he is looking for gold just like everyone else out here."

"Where is he?" Le' asked.

"He has a claim up on Sourdough Mountain," Captain Gates said. "It's just an old hole in the ground that was abandoned a few years ago, but he and his partner are working it with determination—more determination than they would invest in a simple exploration for tin."

"What are you saying?" Le' asked. "Is there someone with him?"

"Yes," Captain Gates said. He started into the parlor, and Le' trailed after him. "You come too, Tsien," he said, and the young Chinese woman entered eagerly. 'The man who is with him is himself a seafaring man," Captain Gates said. "He was considered by many to be little more than a drunken old sailor, and in fact was called Sailor by people who didn't know his real name. But as it turns out, he was once a ship's captain, fallen into disrepute." Captain Gates shook his head. "It is a shame to see such evil times befall a fellow officer, but such was Sailor's history that he is to be more pitied than blamed."

Tsien poured tea for Le' and for Captain Gates, and Gates settled back in his chair to continue the story.

"You remember, lass, the sad tale I told of Lo Ching, who killed his own daughter because she was with child, the child of an American sea captain?"

"Yes, I remember the story," Le' said.

"'Twas this selfsame man," Gates went on. "And, oddity of oddities, Ive since learned that he was the master of the ship upon which young Kelly himself sailed to China as a cabin boy."

Suddenly, in an insight as clear as crystal, Le' realized that she had found her father. She recalled the words of her mother dining the peyote-induced vision. She should let her life flow where it would flow, and her mission would be fulfilled. Thus, if her life brought her back to Mike Kelly, it would also bring her to her father.

"What is the name of this man with Mike Kelly?" Le' asked quietly.

"As I said, he has been called Sailor by many, but in truth his name is Captain Jim Lyons, and—"

"Big Cat," Le' said quietly. She showed no sudden surge of emotion, for it came as no surprise to her. It was as it should be.

"Big Cat? What do you mean?" Gates asked, puzzled by her strange statement. Then he realized what she was talking about. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I see what you mean. Lyons ... a lion ... is a big cat"

"He is my father," Le' said simply.

"He can't be," Gates said. "You remember the story . . . Though ... I suppose there could have been more than one woman. Perhaps there was the daughter of Lo Ching, and another—"

"No," Le's said. "My mother and the daughter of Lo Ching are one and the same. This I know now. I do not know how this can be, but only this can explain Tekana's vision. She said my grandfather was a great chief. Lo Ching was my grandfather."

"I don't know, Le'," Gates said. "I don't want you to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed once again. I don't see how this fella could be your grandfather. There were thousands who watched your mother ... uh ... I mean, his daughter executed."

"My father will have the answer to this mystery," Le' said simply. "I will go to find him, and he will understand."

"Here is the surveyor's map of Sourdough Mountain, Mr. Powers," the superintendent said, putting the map in front of Jason. Jason opened it up and looked at it. "Here is the area where Kelly and his partner are working," the superintendent explained, showing the shaft with his finger.

"Did you file on the rest of the mountain?" Jason asked.

"Yes, Sir, I did, just like you asked," the superintendent said. "But I'll tell you true, Mr. Powers, there ain't nothin' over there. Kelly is barking up a wrong tree."

Reflectively, Jason tapped the map with the ends of his fingers. "I don't like Kelly, and I never did. But if he thinks he's found something, then I believe he has. I figured our only chance now is to claim everything around him and prevent him from expanding his claim any, just in case it proves out."

"Yes, Sir, well, we've done that all right," the superintendent said. "By this time tomorrow, we'll have an entire crew over there, working our claim. He'll know he has company."

"I want a mill built over there," Jason said.

"Boss, excuse me, Sir, but that don't make no sense at all," the superintendent said, surprised by Jason's odd request. "I mean, if we do find anything, we may as well bring it over here. Why go to the expense of a new mill?"

"I don t mean a stamping mill," Jason said. "I mean a chemical treatment mill. We'll break down the ore by chemicals—it's faster. That way we'll see if it's worth working our claim."

"It may be faster, Boss, but it's more expensive. Chemicals cost money."

"Time is money too, Charlie, now get those chemicals in place over there like I told you to."

"Yes, Sir," Charlie said. He had learned soon after taking over this job not to argue with Jason Powers. Powers owned a gold mine which had no gold, and yet he continued to work as if they were pulling out gold every day, Charlie realized the work was just a sham to prolong the investments from shareholders, so he did whatever he was asked to do. After all, Charlie's salary was the same, whether the money came from produced gold or from a shareholder's bank account. And if Jason Powers wanted a wagon load of chemicals delivered to the new mine site on Sourdough Mountain, he would deliver them there, no questions asked.

"Did you get all the chemicals I asked for?" Jason asked casually, as he studied the map in front of him.

"Yes, Sir," Charlie said. "I got lye, sulfuric acid, potash, magnesium, ammonia, and alcohol. There ought to be enough there to do about any job that would need doin'."

"Yes," Jason said, locating what he was looking for It was an air shaft which fed the mine in which Kelly was working. "Yes," he said. 'What you have is quite adequate for my needs." He chuckled triumphantly.

The sun was a blood-red disc poised on the horizon when Le' started her climb up the side of Sourdough Mountain. The western sky was a blaze of fire and color, and a beautiful light show worked its way across the hills and peaks of the area people referred to as Goldfields.

Captain Gates had offered Le' the use of a horse but she declined. She rode out to Goldfields in a wagon belonging to Powers Mining Company; the driver had recognized her from the times she had been to the mine. It was four miles from where the driver let her off to Sourdough Mountain, and Le' walked that distance easily.

As Le' approached the cabin, she could smell bacon frying in the pan, and she suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. She wondered how her father would react to the news that he was her father. Would he even believe her?

Twilight was enveloping the area when Le' knocked on the door. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door

"How much water did you get that you can't open the door?" Mike was saying as he pulled the door open. When he saw Le' standing there, his face registered first shock, then utter joy.

"Le'," he said. He stepped back from the door. "Le', what . . . what are you doing here?"

"Are you pleased to see me?" Le' asked.

"Pleased? I'm pleased beyond words," Mike said. "Show me how pleased," Le' said, and she smiled invitingly at him, indicating that she wanted a kiss.

Mike swept her into his arms and kissed her with the exuberance and joy of a man who welcomes a lover home after a long absence. In fact, that was what he was doing.

Later, after the kiss, Mike escorted Le' over to the table and pulled out a chair for her.

"It's not very fancy, I'm afraid," he said.

"It suits me," Le' said, smiling at his apology. She looked around the cabin. "I can be very happy here."

"What?" Mike asked, flabbergasted by her statement. "Le', what are saying?"

"I want to move in here with you," Le' said. "That is, if you will have me."

"Have you? Are you serious? Le', I would go to the moon for you! Are you really going to stay with me now? Why, this is wonderful! I can't believe my luck!"

"I'm going to stay," Le' said. "I love you, Mike Kelly, and I will not deny that any longer."

"Well," Mike said. "Well," look here, Le'. Will you marry me?"

"Of course, I will marry you," Le' said laughing.

. Mike began whooping for joy and dancing Le around the cabin.

"Boy, what the hell has gotten into you?" a man's voice asked, coming through the front door. "Have you gone daft?"

Captain Lyons had just stepped through the front door carrying a couple of canteens. He let them drop to the floor, and he stared at Le' in open-mouthed shock.

"Cap'n, this is Le'," Mike said. "This is the girl I've told you about."

Lyons took a few steps toward Le'. His eyes were open wide, and his face was twisted in confusion.

"Pai?" he said quietly. "My God, it can't be."

"I am not Pai," Le' said quietly.

"No, no, of course not, you couldn't be," Lyons said. His face broke into an uneasy smile. "I must admit; you gave an old man a start there."

"This is Le'," Mike said, walking over and putting his arm around her. "Cap'n, she's going to be my wife!"

Now Lyons' smile grew wider. He walked over, took Le's hand, and pumped it vigorously. "Well, girl, you couldn't get a finer young man," he said. "And, Lord knows, he's lovestruck over you. He talks, more about you than he does the gold."

"Captain Lyons, may I ask you something?" Le' asked.

"Ask me anything you want," Lyons replied.

"What lies beyond the inner door of the golden pagoda?"

The smile left Lyons's face to be replaced with a look of shock. He dropped Le's hand, stepped back, and looked at her. His face wouldn't have registered a. greater degree of surprise had she suddenly slapped him..

"Who are you?" he asked again, and this time there was awe in his voice.

"What's going on?" Mike asked, confused by the byplay between the two.

"Do you know the answer to that question?" Le asked, looking at him intently.

"Yes," Lyons said. "Beyond the inner door of the golden pagoda, lies the private prayer room of Princess Pai."

"What wonders did the garden jasmines hide?" Le asked.

Now Lyons's face showed even more curiosity.

"Why are you asking me these questions, girl?" he wanted to know.

"Please, Captain Lyons," Le' said. "If you can answer them, you must. It is very important"

"In the garden there was a secret passageway," Lyons said. "It was to be used as an escape route for the royal family should there ever be a revolution. Not even the palace guard knew of it. It was also the passageway I used to sneak in and out of the grounds to meet with Pai."

"Who is Tsu?"

"Tsu was handmaiden to Princess Pai."

"And now, Captain," Le' said, her heart pounding furiously. "I will give you a statement which meant nothing to me before . . . though, now I know its meaning: 'Tsu was the cherry blossom offered to the people'. Do you understand the meaning of that statement?"

"Yes," Lyons said. He sat down and looked up at Le'. "The cherry blossom falls from the tree before it withers and dies ... in the prime of its life. Tsu was the cherry blossom ... It was Tsu who was beheaded by Lo Ching, not Pai."

"Pai was my mother," Le' said simply.

"Good Lord," Lyons said reverently. "Then you are..."

"I am your daughter," Le' said.

"What?" Mike asked, shocked by what was going on. "Le', Cap'n Lyons is your father?"

"Yes," Le' said, and she went to Lyons and put her arms around him.

Lyons embraced Le', squeezing her tightly, holding her for a long time, rocking back and forth slightly. His eyes were tightly closed, but he was still unable to prevent tears from sliding out from under the lids. Finally, after a long moment, he let her go, and then held her at arms' length so he could look at her.

"I'm sorry about the questions . . . Father . . ." Le' said, setting the word apart and giving it a special, loving emphasis. "But it was by that method I was to identify you."

"I need no questions," Lyons said, looking happily at her. "You are your mother, girl. You are her beauty, her charm. You are your mother come back to me."

"Le', when you said you had the mission of looking for your father. You were looking for Captain Lyons all along?"

"Yes," Le' said. "Only I didn't know that. I knew only to look for the name my mother called him by."

"Big Cat," Lyons said with a little laugh.

"Yes," Le' said.

"Oh, Le', if only your mother had come with me on the night we planned, all would have been different."

"She could not come," Le' said. "Her plans were discovered and even as you spoke, she was surrounded by her father's guards. Had she tried to go with you, you would have been killed."

"She risked her life for me," Lyons said. "She must have known, even then, what Lo Ching had planned. And yet, she gave me no indication. She let me think evil of her in order that I might live." Lyons looked at the floor, his face twisted by shame and sorrow. "And what a mess I made with the life she gave me," he went on.

"I know now," Le said, "that somehow Tsu exchanged her life with my mother s life, so that I might live."

"But where is your mother now?" Lyons asked. "Where is Pai?"

"My mother died when I was born," Le said. "I never knew her."

"You never knew your mother?" Mike asked. "You never knew her, yet you dedicated your life to fulfilling a mission for her?"

"Yes," Le said. She looked at Lyons. "I was trained from birth to withstand any hardship, to overcome any adversity, to bring you my mother's bond of love."

"And that is why you were trained at Shan Tal?" Mike asked.

Le' looked at him. "Yes," she said. She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I cursed that fact when I realized how you felt about it. But I could not help the circumstances of my birth."

"I was a fool," Mike said. He laughed. "I guess it was difficult for me to accept the love of a woman of such powers. I felt inadequate to the task, that's all." Le' put both arms around Mike's neck and leaned into him, kissing him fully on the mouth. She felt his reaction against her, and she felt the heat in her own body building, and she pressed herself against him.

"Here," Lyons suddenly said, clearing his throat and speaking in a jocular tone. "That's my daughter you're fondling there, Sir. And I would like to know your intentions."

"My intentions are to marry her," Mike said, finally breaking off the kiss and looking into Le's eyes.

"Do you still feel inadequate?" Le' teased.

"What do you think?" Mike asked, smiling back at her. "Do I feel inadequate to you?"

Le' could feel Mike against her, and she knew what he was talking about, and she smiled at his ribald sense of humor. "No," she said, "you don't feel in the least inadequate."

"Well, all this is very good," Lyons said. "But she is still my daughter, and I expect you to do well by her. So tell her what we've done here."

"Oh," Mike said, almost as if it was an afterthought. "Le', we've nearly found the mother lode. Tomorrow we are going to make another blast. If the signs hold up, then I know we are going in the right direction."

"What is the mother lode?" Le' asked.

"It's a vein of gold," Lyons said. "It's one yard high, one hundred feet deep, and a mile long."

"Really?" Le' asked, impressed with the dimensions as expressed by Lyons.

Mike laughed. "Well, that's the mythical mother lode," he said. "No one really knows how large it would be. But if we are lucky, we'll soon find out." 'We're going down tomorrow to make a new cut," Lyons said.

"Wonderful," Le' said. "I'll go down with you."

"No," Mike said. "Such work is too dangerous for a..." He paused, then smiled sheepishly. "Yeah," he said. "Come along. I'd love to have you."

"Good, we've got that all settled," Lyons said. "Now, what do you say we eat? I'm as hungry as a bear."

"I wish I had something better to offer you," Mike said. "Bacon and beans is all I have. It's our normal fare."

"It sounds delicious," Le' said, and she sat down to enjoy it.

During and after supper, Lyons filled Le' in on her mother, telling her stories that she had never heard before. It was a bittersweet time for both of them as Lyons remembered the woman he had lost and Le' learned of the mother she had never known. After they had talked long into the night and a moment of silence descended over them, Lyons got up, walked over to his bunk, took a blanket, kissed Le' on the forehead, and left the cabin without another word.

Le' stared after the, door in silence for a moment after Lyons was gone. In the fireplace a log popped, and the glowing coals erupted into a small flame, which blazed for a few seconds then drifted back down to glowing coals.

"Where is he going?" Le' asked.

"He means for us to have this time alone," Mike said. "Unless, under the circumstances, you would rather not."

Le' looked over at Mike and smiled. "No," she said. "I want to spend the time with you. I want to spend all my time with you—the rest of my life."

Making a small sound of joy in his throat, Mike walked over to Le', scooped her up in his strong arms, and carried her to his bed.

Outside, Lyons rolled up in a blanket beneath the stars and thought not of what was going on in the cabin, but of Pai. She came to him in his dreams, and for the first time in more than twenty years, he wasn't haunted by her nocturnal visit, but comforted by it.

When the sun peaked over Mount Penelope the next morning, the white rays streamed down on the cabin.

Inside the cabin, locked in a lovers' embrace from the night before, their nude bodies pressed against each other, Le' and Mike awakened luxuriously. Outside the cabin, still rolled up like a cocoon in his blanket, Lyons shifted positions to mold his body more comfortably into the hollow of ground he had found.

A short distance away from the tranquil scene of early morning sleepers, one man was already awake—and at his nefarious business. This man was Jason Powers, and he was putting the last touches to a scheme he had worked out to eliminate Mike Kelly as a source of trouble, once and for all.

In buckets above the air shaft, Jason Powers had gathered chemicals. One bucket contained hydrochloric acid and the other, manganese dioxide. When the two were mixed, the result would be chlorine gas. The chlorine gas was heavier than air, and it would drift down through the air shaft, killing Mike Kelly and anyone else who chose that day to work in the mine.

It was a perfect murder plan, Jason knew. There wouldn't be a mark on the body, so no one would suspect it was murder. After all, one of the hazards of mining was the hidden gas pockets which were sometimes exposed by the miners. Everyone would think that was what happened to Mike Kelly. Then, when he managed to prepare a deed of prior ownership of the mine, Kelly wouldn't be around to counter his claim.

Jason had constructed a trigger device to release the gas. A piece of canvas acted as an air lock, sealing the gas in the buckets. When Powers made his first cutting blast, the blast would send up a shock wave of expelled air, much like the compressed air in a pump. That compressed air would force the canvas aside, breaking the seal. The gas would then fall down the air shaft, asphyxiating all below. Then Jason would return and remove the buckets, canvas, and all other pieces of incriminating evidence. Eventually a search party would find Kelly dead.

Though Jason worked feverishly, he soon heard the ringing sound of steel on steel. The air shaft was conducting the sound up to him. He knew that, way down below, Kelly was driving drill bits into the rock face to prepare the blasting holes. It wouldn't be too much longer until the first blast was set off. Jason moved more quickly, finally mixing the chemicals in their correct proportions. Then he covered the bucket with three thicknesses of canvas, holding the cover down with rocks to form an envelope.

Jason stood up and looked at his work proudly, brushing his hands together. In a short time, enough gas would be generated inside that envelope to wipe out an army. The concussion from Kelly's blast would open the bottom of the envelope, the gas would rush down the air shaft, and it would all be over in a matter of seconds.

Jason turned and walked away, pulling a cigar from his inside jacket pocket and lighting it in pleasant contemplation.

One hundred fifty feet below, Mike was wielding a hammer against the thirty-inch drill bit Lyons was holding against the face of the rock wall. Two lanterns burned brightly on the ground beside them, and Le' was watching intently. Mike had his shirt off and his muscles were gleaming in the light. He was hitting the bit at the rate of one blow per second, and the shaft rang with the sound.

Mike stopped for a moment, and the sound died off in a series of echoes retreating down the long mineshaft. Mike tested the drill bit. "It looks like it might hold by itself now" he said. "Why don't you set the fuses on the charges."

"This is just the bull bit. We have to set the changer bit as well," Lyons said.

"That's right," Mike said. He sighed. "Well, we'll get it done. Then we can set the charges together."

"Why don't you let me hold it?" Le' asked.

"Are you serious?" Mike asked. "Do you know what would happen if I missed with the hammer? I'd smash your arm or at least your hands."

"You would smash my father s hands as well if you missed, wouldn't you?" Le' asked.

"Yes, but I am prepared to accept the risk," Lyons said.

"So am I," Le' said. "Please, let me help. I can hold the steel rods. I can't work with the blasting powder." Lyons looked at Mike hopelessly. Mike rubbed the back of his hand against his sweating forehead and sighed. "All right, let her do it," he said. "I'll be extra careful."

Lyons reluctantly moved out of the way so Le' could hold the changer bit, which was longer and narrower than the bull bit.

"Now you have to constantly rotate the bit, Le', or it will stick in the rock," Mike explained, and he demonstrated the technique to her.

Le' indicated that she was ready, and once again the mine shaft was filled with the sound of steel ringing on steel. It took about thirty more minutes until the depth was enough to accept the charge.

"Now," Mike said, breathing heavily from the exertion, "let's get the charges planted and see what we have."

"I fused enough sticks for the next charge, too," Lyons said.

"Good," Mike answered. "Now, stand back over there, just behind that rock ledge. That'll keep any flying rock from hurting you."

Le' and Lyons got into position, and Mike set the charges. Then he lit the fuses and moved quickly back to stand with the other two. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled, and he stuck his fingers in his ears. Le' and Lyons followed suit.

Seconds later the mine rocked with the sound of explosions. A blast of hot air and shock wave washed over them. The whole rock face fell in a tumble of crushed rock and dust. When finally the dust and smoke cleared away, they could see the entire wall was freshly exposed.

Lyons smiled broadly. "Well, that was a good job, lad," he said. "We should be able to get a good reading on—What is that strange smell?"

"I smell it, too," Le' said.

Mike looked around in confusion. Then, behind him, he saw an approaching cloud of yellowish gas.

"My God!" he said. "We've exposed a gas pocket. It's coming right toward us!"

"We've got to get out of here!" Lyons said, and he started toward the mine entrance.

"No, not that way!" Mike said. "You can't run through that stuff. You'll be dead before you get to the other side!"

"But what can we do, Mike?" Le' asked. For the first time, Mike heard a degree of panic in Le's voice.

"I don't know," Mike said. Suddenly he saw the case of dynamite with the new charges already made up. "Cap'n Lyons, get the dynamite sticks," he said. Lyons started grabbing them, gathering them in his arms as one would gather firewood.

"What are you going to do?" Le' asked Mike.

"Maybe if we toss several dynamite sticks into the cloud, the blast will clear the gas away," Mike said.

"Might that not also bring the whole mountain down on us?" Le' asked.

"We don't have any choice," Mike replied. "We are going to be dead in thirty more seconds if we don't do something. One way is as good as another."

Mike lit the first stick and tossed it into the cloud of gas. Immediately, he lit another, and then still another. Lyons lit two and tossed them in. The sticks went off in a rapid chain of explosions. The concussion from the blasts knocked all three of them down, and they lay there peppered with fine dust. But when the last explosions rolled away, the gas cloud was gone.

"You did it!" Lyons shouted happily. "What happened to it?"

"I guess the shock wave dispersed it," Mike said. "At any rate, I think we had better sit right here for several minutes, until we are sure the gas had drifted far enough away for us to get out."

"The explosions did quite a bit of damage," Lyons said.

"Yeah, maybe I'd better take a look around," Mike suggested, and he got up, brushed himself off, and started poking around the chamber where the sticks of dynamite had fired. He walked a little way toward the front of the mine, then came back. "Well, the gas seems to have disappeared," he said. "But one problem is that we sealed off the air-passage shaft. We'll have to open that up again if we're going to be doing much work down here."

"I have a feeling that we are going to do quite a bit of work down here," Lyons said. Despite the forced calmness in his voice, there was a tone of suppressed excitement in the timbre of his words.

"Why?" Mike asked.

Lyons had been poking around with his fingers in a part of the wall which was freshly exposed by the explosion. "Unless I miss my guess, lad . . ., this is what we've been looking for!"

Mike and Le' looked toward him. There, sparkling in the light of the lanterns, was a long streak of softly glowing yellow metal.

"We've found it," Mike said happily.

Jason Powers heard the explosion, and he waited for nearly an hour before he returned to the top of the air shaft. He would have to remove the canvas cover and the buckets of chemicals before his plan would be completely carried out. If anyone discovered those utensils, they would realize what he had done. Surely, one hour had been enough time for the gas to have done its lethal work.

Jason hummed a tuneless little song as he worked. In his mind he composed the words of sorrow he would release to the newspapers when the body was discovered. "Hidden pockets of gas have long been one of the scourges of mining," he would say. "That an engineer with the experience of Mike Kelly could be trapped by one just proves how dangerous mining really is.

"I am going on record now," he would add, "as being an advocate for a safe and sane mining policy which is ever on the alert for such dangers as this."

What Jason Powers did not realize was that he was about to uncover a gas pocket of his own making. The explosion which had released the gases down into the mine had also sealed off the air shaft. In the meantime, the chemical reaction was continuing to generate gas, and now the entire shaft was full. The gas was so heavily concentrated under the canvas cover that Jason was exposed to a lethal dose of it as soon as he rolled back the cover.

Jason gasped as the choking, burning sensation hit him. Staggering back with his mind reeling, he had one last conscious thought—the realization of what he had done.

* * *

THE END

# Also by Fancy DeWitt

### This Golden Rapture

From the lavish gaiety of Elizabethan balls to the jungle's savage passions. She made the journey from innocent to goddess!

Kidnapped on the night of her betrothal to an infamous Englishman, her senses inflamed by the hypnotic ardor of a black-bearded pirate, Diane de Clovis sailed to her tempestuous fate in the New World. Her blond beauty ravaged by an evil Spanish grandee, Lady Diane would reach the heights of passion with Guy Ramsey, a man whose inner voice spoke to her without words and whose magnificent body taught her the eternal language of flaming desire...

* * *

_A vailable now from Fancy DeWitt and City Lights Press._

# About the Author

Fancy DeWitt is the pen name of a prolific writer in Missouri. A licensed helicopter pilot, Paula became a full-time writer in 1977. Every day she writes from early morning until three in the afternoon in her home in Sikeston, Missouri, where she lives with her family of three.
