The Weber Literary Journal entered the noonday "crap tournament" with the unsteadiest feeling he had ever experienced in his history. Wong-Lee, for the first time in his memory, was sure of coming out victorious. As usual, any crap game in which Champ Johnson participated was enough to draw a crowd. Boys forgot to go home to eat lunch in the fascination of the darky king's "sure shootin'." As for the girls they weren't allowed anywhere near because girls snitch to teacher and, well today was no exception. The crowd was there but the king whatever ailed him ? Rastus shook like a leaf. It was one of the few cases in all history where all the cunning of a living mortal was to be pitted against the powers of the unseen the extremely mighty spirit of Wing Chang's sixth ancestor. All ready. Wong Lee stroked the spirit ring. Rastus kissed the bones. "Now don' you fail me, little brothaws, don' you fail me." His usual remark before entering the game, was repeated. Rastus rolled the bones possibly the worst shot of his career. He seemed in his nervousness, to have positively no control over his favorites. He seemed to play right into the hand of Wong-Lee, with the result that when Miss Higgins made her five-minutes-to-one appearance in the school yard, Wong-Lee was enriched by a razor, a dull-edged knife, eleven cents in cash, numerous other articles, and a strengthened belief in the spirits. The fickle crowd of boys at once gave up their former hero and tried to make one of Wong-Lee, which the Chinaboy refused to listen to. "No, me still frien' of Rastus-he my frien' I no win crap game anyhow spirits win game." Though his sincerity was apparent, the Chinee was ridiculed for this statement. But Wong-Lee had more to worry about than that. If the spirits lived up to their reputation by winning the crap game, would they fulfill Chang's prophecy of the morning before. The Chinese boy thought deeply, regretting his act. Rastus, however, was a good loser he would show them anytime when spirits weren't allowed in the game, and again be the Brooker schoolyard "crap" king. Miss Higgins, of course, by hook and crook, got the details of the game, and so rejoiced in Rastus Johnson's downfall that she let him start home on time after school was out. Rastus met Wong-Lee at the door, for he had absolutely nothing 34 The Weber Literary Journal against the Chinee, but put the entire blame of his own collapse on the evil spirits. "Me don't like go home," announced Wong; "Chang maybe kill me. He look all over for ring today, me know he be like angry devils now." Rastus pulled him. "Aw c'mon, ya gotta go home. Ya might as well. The plice'll lock ya up anyhow." Wong's decision was immediate. The boys started down the narrow crowded slum Brooker street. Motor vehicles, guided by experts, probably experienced with these narrow alleys, guided round about one another with infinite skill. A false move would have killed or injured twenty people. Wong walked as if in a daze. He could not forget Chang's promise. It stayed with him it haunted him. The Chinese boy stepped off the curbing and swiftly stepped between two motors, one, a large truck, the other, a small vehicle, traveling in the opposite direction. Whether deliberately or not, is just another puzzle of the Oriental. "L'kout," yelled Rastus frantically, as he tried to grab his friend. Too late, the Chinese lay on the street. Chang's prophecy was fulfilled. Rastus was the first to reach the still boy's side. The sound of his only friend's voice seemed to rouse Wong-Lee from his unconsciousness. He began to talk feverishly. "Here, Rastus my frien' here ring take back and put in Chang room you must spirits make auto run me over maybe me die you take back or spirit kill you too." "But, Wong, ah doesn't know which Chang's room is." "Chang room at top of stairs, turn to left, down hall, have big China idol on outside of door you go at ten o'clock don't go later much people be there 'gain tonight you must or spirit kill you. To open Chang door press down button under Chinaman statue. Put ring in Chinese idol mouth at foot of Chang bed pleaseplease. The Chinese boy again fell into unconsciousness, and couldn't be roused. "Yo jes' leave it to Rastus," comforted the black boy. The ambulance arrived, and with the aid of bystanders, Wong-Lee was lifted into it and carried away. After an evening of horrors, ten o'clock finally arrived to the extreme terror of a certain R. A. P. Johnson. At nearly regular in- 35