“That may be a good idea,” admitted the officer.  “I had not thought of that.”

“We may have to make a run for it, judging from the experiences we had at Taku,” Ned suggested.

“Nothing of the kind here,” the other said.  “You are as safe in this city as you would be in New York, under the same conditions, of course.  You know there are sections of New York which strangers do well to keep out of at night.”

So, mounting their cycles again, the three set off for the foreign section of Tientsin.  At first the streets were very bad, but in time they came to smoother running and good time was made.

It was now approaching midnight, but the city, was still awake and stirring.  The streets were well filled with pedestrians, and many of the small shops were open.

Naturally the three motorcycles, speeding through the streets of the ancient city, attracted no little attention.  Here and there little groups blocked the way for an instant, but on the whole fair progress was made.

Jimmie, by no means as anxious as were his companions, enjoyed every moment of the dash.  He was thinking of the stories he would have to tell when he returned to the Bowery again!

It is quite possible that the way would have been more difficult for the riders only for the uniform of the officer.  Foreigners are not given much consideration by the street crowds in China—­especially by such crowds as enliven the thoroughfares at night—­but, since the march of the allied armies to Peking, uniforms have been held in great awe.

At last the telegraph office was reached, and Ned was glad to see that lights still burned within.  His night ride would at least prove of avail.  He would receive instructions directly from Washington, and that would be more to the purpose than traveling along like a blind mole in the earth, receiving his information by bits from underlings in the Secret Service.

Besides, the boy was wet and cold, for the night was growing more disagreeable every moment, and he would now have an opportunity to warm himself by a blaze such as foreigners ordinarily insist on in the cold months in China.

The man at the desk bowed courteously as the three entered the office.  He was evidently a native of China but seemed to have profited by a foreign education.

When Ned gave his name and asked for a message, the operator, who appeared to be the sole employee there, coolly surveyed him critically from head to foot.  Then he turned questioning eyes to the marine.

“It is all right,” the officer said.  “This is the person brought here by the flying squadron.”

“A boy!” cried the operator.  “Only a boy!”

“Aw, cut that out!” cried Jimmie, always ready to resent any seeming discourtesy to his chum.

The operator scowled at the little fellow and turned to the officer with the remark that he should be obliged to consult with his superior.