The Weber Literary Journal Sometimes he washed dishes until two o'clock in the morning. Had he told of this and of other things he knew about the old Chinee, Chang would have been behind the bars long ago. As the boys proceeded down the street, Wong-Lee was plainly bewildered. He couldn't understand the grand old game of craps at all. It held a remote and peculiar sort of fascination for him, but then, why was it that he never won anything. Everything he could slyly swipe from Wing Chang's tea house, Rastus would inevitably procure, and always through the process of the crap game. Wong-Lee had often inspected the bones, but never could even his small, sharp eyes discover anything the matter with them, yet the luck always ran in but one direction. As a last resort, Wong-Lee secretly decided to gain the aid of the unseen. "Rastus," the Chinee addressed his companion. "Teacher take Rastus's crap bones; now, how Rastus going to shoot craps? Maybe Rastus quit crap game. Teacher say devil game no good." "Quit rollin' the bones? I should say no,"answered the brains of the team; "Ah's gwine t' git another set o' bones tomorrow ah'll git the old man's dice tomorrow agin' got anything ya wants to stick up?" "Me 'fraid not. Me daresen't take away more from Wing-Chang. Wing-Chang kick me out," replied the oriental, truthfully. "Oh, me know something devil bones can't win." "Bring it on," Rastus challenged. "Tomorrow, me bring Wing-Chang ancestor ring. He look at every night before go bed. He say it thousand year old he bring from China long time. It belong to he sixth ancestor. Him ancestor won't let devil bones have it." "Ya mean t' say it's hanted!" Rastus began to display signs of real interest. "Come off ya don't mean it." "It belong to Wing Chang ancestor," Wong-Lee repeated; "him ancestor protect it. He no let it go out of Chinaman hands." Rastus always had held a secret fear or dread of anything belonging to Wing-Chang, but no more so than he did for the old Chinee himself; yet a demonstration of spirits would excite the curiosity of even the most fearful. "Say, Wong-Lee, bring it 'long tomorrow, an' we'll see about it. Ah'll swipe the ol' man's bones, an' ol' lady Higgins bettah keep her hands off." 30 The Weber Literary Journal "Missy Higgins no can take ancestor ring. She die if she take. Wing-Chang ancestor spirit kill her if she take." Wong-Lee was most certainly in "all-earnest," a thing Rastus soon began to note. "Oh m'gawsh, it ain't that serious, is it?" "Devil bones cannot take, either. Devil bones go hell before take. Wing-Chang ancestor--." "Don' tell me no moah- ah repeats don' tell me no moah. Ah wants to enjoy the game tuhmorruh in peace." The next morning found Rastus worried. Fie had spent hours of misery a whole night of it. He couldn't get the "hanted" ring off his mind. Such things held no place whatever in Rastus's un-Chris-tianlike and not unsuperstitious heart. Nevertheless, on his word of honor, he would shoot for it, at the noon hour game, and if he won it he could throw it away; but if he lost it would of course, be the fault of the spirits of Wing-Chang's ancestors. Rastus halted at the kitchen door of the Wing-Chang tea room. "Oh, Wong-Lee," he called, but the door did not open. Voices within convinced the black boy that trouble ensued there as it usually did in the dingy back rooms of the house of Chang. The Morning American paper still lay on the doorstep. Rastus glanced at the headlines. "Reward of one thousand dollars will be presented by Morning Examiner to person giving information leading to the finding of Slicker Chuck Darrell, hunted criminal and drug addict." Rastus could taste one thousand dollars' worth of watermelon already. Often had he seen Chuck in this very place. The clamor in the kitchen grew louder. "You impudent child of the devils what are you hiding I could not find my ring this morning my ring of the sixth ancestor speak where is it?" It was undisputably the voice of Wing-Chang, as was usual, in nearly perfect English. "Me know not about ring you maybe hide and can't find," was Wong-Lee's weak comeback. "You lie you child of iniquity you have the ring you child of the twenty-three minor devils you hand back the ring to Chang or DIE." "Me no have ring you leave me 'lone me tell policeman about op- Chang held the words in the boy's mouth. "You tell the police and I'll cut you open with this." 31