The words so exactly corresponded with his unspoken thought that for a moment he was scarcely aware that they had been uttered by another. Then he turned with a start, saw that Ah-Sam and the chief had their rifles up and their fingers already at the triggers, and, following their upward gaze, noticed the figure of a short, sturdy Chinaman between two rocks above his head. Even as he looked Ah-Sam dropped his rifle and said something to Sing-Cheng, and with a second glance Bob understood. He went forward eagerly with outstretched hand.
"Kobo San! You don't know how glad I am to see you," he said warmly. "Are you all right? How in the world did you escape?"
"I will tell you," replied Kobo. "But, pardon me, I am terribly hungry. Have you a little rice to spare?"
"Ah-Sam," said Bob, "run back and ask Mrs. Pottle to prepare a meal for a friend of mine. You shall have something in five minutes. Upon my word, Kobo San, I am glad to see you. I hoped you had got away safely, but the uncertainty--"
"Ah! The tables are turned this time. I am only sorry you didn't give me the chance to rescue you. But come, let me take you to the ladies. They will be delighted to see you."
"She is at present the subject of diplomatic correspondence between the United States and Japan," said Kobo, with a smile. "She is the widow of Mr. Isidore G. Pottle, I presume; I knew him."
"How strange! But come, you must be famished."
Kobo walked slowly down the incline. Bob noticed that he limped.
"A sprain, perhaps. This is very rough walking."
"Good heavens! You must be in terrible pain. Let me help you."
But Bob knew from the manner in which he set his foot upon the ground that the hurt was not so insignificant as Kobo would have him believe. Fortunately a few yards' walk brought them to the spot where the rest of the party had halted.
"Mrs. Pottle, let me introduce a friend of mine--Rokuro Kobo San."
Kobo bowed, and Mrs. Pottle, throwing a hasty glance over his costume, jumped to a conclusion, and said cordially:
"I am indeed honoured, madam," returned Kobo, bowing again ceremoniously with impassive face. Bob and Ethel had instinctively turned aside to conceal their amusement; and Mrs. Pottle, with a surprised and startled glance at the supposed Chinaman, began haltingly: