The American ambassador was a nervous man," said Owney. "He wore white suits mostly, with silk shirts, silk because he was working in China. The shirts had high collars. He was a careful man. He put a little money in each one of his pockets before he went out, but one of his assistants paid the rickshaw man when we went for a ride. A rickshaw is a two-wheeled cart pulled by a man. I rode in a lot of them during the first two days, usually to dinners given in my honor by rich Chinese merchants.

"They had an interest in the postal system of the United States. Most of them had offices in America that mailed money to them, and bank drafts which are like checks. Many of them had relatives in the United States. I sat next to a cousin of Hop Hop Hop's one afternoon. Hop Hop Hop was the man who owned the restaurant in Tacoma, Washington.

"The ambassador wanted me to make a good impression on the merchants. They were arranging my appointment with the Emperor."

Gib saw the little dog amid the Chinese merchants, all the merchants grave in long, black silk banker's coats that hung almost to the toes of their black, brocaded slippers. Owney sat with the ambassador in a black, lacquered chair near the head of the table during the dinners. The merchants ate with their hats on, little pillboxes of hats that sat the same on fat faces and lean faces. All of the faces had droopy mustaches and wispy beards. Always at the tables were a German, a Frenchman, two Englishmen and two Russians because the Chinese were hospitable.

"The ambassador made speeches," said Owney. "He talked about our postal system. I don't know why. The Chinese had a postal system with more than 10,000 offices long before Columbus discovered America. Anyhow, nobody listened. The polite Chinese talked about other things. I distinctly heard two merchants ask each other how much bullets were selling for by the pound in Tientsin. They had cousins in the bandit business."

"You mean outlaws like the ones on TV?" asked Gib.

"Not exactly," said Owney. "Anyhow, the Emperor finally sent word that he'd see me in the city of Süchow. That was about three hundred miles northwest of Shanghai on the Choo & Choo & Choo."

"Choo, choo, choo?"

"It was the name of the railroad," whined the dog.

Gib patted him.

"The Emperor had come all the way from Peking to rest at one of his river palaces. He had his court with him and his pets. Oh, my, his pets."

Owney was silent a moment and Gib jabbed him with his thumb.

The Choo & Choo & Choo had been built by German engineers. It was a toy railroad with narrow-gauge tracks and plaything cars. In the first car, right behind the locomotive which burned wood sat Owney, the ambassador, a German, two Frenchmen, two Englishmen, two Russians and three Chinese postal officials. They talked about the price of stamps for mail carried by caravan across the Gobi desert.

The train snorted through the countryside. Barefooted men and women bowed to it. They thought it was a dragon breathing smoke and fire. About twenty miles from the city of Süchow a band of men carrying pitchforks and rifles and old swords burst over a hillside and shouted at the train. Most of them were on foot. Some rode tiny horses. They looked very angry.

"They were Chinese bandits, said Owney. "I took a long look at them."

There was a carriage waiting for them when the little train puffed into Süchow. The handsome horses, which drew it, were black twins. They looked polished. They had slanty eyes. There was no honor guard of soldiers. A tall, stern-looking Chinese in a pale-blue uniform bowed to them politely.

He escorted the ambassador and Owney into the carriage. He got in with them and spoke to the driver who wore a pale-green uniform. The carriage moved off through the crowded streets of Süchow.

Owney stood on his hind legs and looked behind him.

A German, a Frenchman, two Englishmen, two Russians and three Chinese postal officials were having a meeting with a rickshaw man.

The Emperor's representative spoke English very well.

He talked with the ambassador and was very interested in Owney.

"The Emperor is fond of dogs," he said. "Five of them, the finest in all China, are with him constantly. They are his one passion. You may meet them."

"If it is the Emperor's wish, we shall be grateful," said the ambassador.

The carriage entered the palace grounds through a golden gate guarded by painted dragons carved from teakwood. The palace itself stood upon a spit of land jutting into a river that embraced it on three sides so that the Emperor might sleep each night lulled by the whispers of water. It was a rambling structure of many open porches and scrollwork carvings, one of many the Emperor used when he wished to escape his capital city of Peking. It was a quiet place designed for green peace and long Chinese thought.

Owney saw few servants although he knew people were present. As the little party entered a long reception room, he felt eyes watching them from behind latticed screens and panels, and from each possible place of concealment he sorted a nose full of odors. There was ceremony in this room, sort of a churchy feel. And there the Emperor received them.

Gib saw a very old man, very tiny and wispy, and almost lost against the fan-back of his dragon-carved throne. The Emperor sat on a puffy cushion and rested his slippered feet on a golden footrest. He wore a long gown of the palest sky-color, which flowed and shimmered as he moved. His face looked as if it were carved from brown smoke and a little wisp of beard hung from his chin. His hands looked slender enough to fit through a man's wedding ring and they had incredible fingernails almost four inches long that looked like old ivory. There was an air of terrible courtesy about him and a patience that could out wait history. He spoke English in a soft, thready voice.

"Welcome," he sad to the American ambassador's low bow when the man who had escorted them into the throne room had gone. "Welcome, Postal Dog Member of the great Universal Postal Union."

"He didn't fool me, " snapped Owney. "He was polite, but he was also a might angry old man."

"Why?" asked Gib.

"He was hurt in his dignity, that's why. How would you like to be an old man, the Emperor of a country that was old and great before anybody ever heard of England, Russia, Germany, France or the United States and have to be nice to a dog representative of the youngest country of them all? I tell you that old man was mad. I could smell it on him."

"Gleeps! What did you do?"

"The best I could," said Owney. "I got down on my tummy and crawled to him and I laid my head on his footrest."

There was a moment of silence in the throne room. A tiny puff of air carrying a little girl's worth of perfume moved the folds of the Emperor's gown. A hint of smile brushed the carved-smoke face.

"Ah," breathed the Emperor of China, "here is courtesy and respect in full measure. A reminder too that the greatest may learn manners from the least. Would you like to meet those of my household, Postal Dog?"

"I sat up and begged," said Owney. He groaned. "What a mistake that was."

The Emperor clapped his hands. And from behind a latticework screen that hid a door leading to one of the palace porches came a typhoon of fur. Five tiny toy dogs raced for the Emperor's throne and the Emperor's lap.

"They were prize Pekinese dogs," explained Owney. "I thought they were bugs wearing red wigs. Not one of them was more than eight inches high at the shoulders. Their eyes popped out of flat-dish faces. Very rare breed in those days. Only found in China. Sort of a cross between a spaniel and a pug. Very smart dogs.

"They swarmed all over the Emperor. They barked like five piccolos. They were the Emperor's passion, all right. His household. But he never got a chance to introduce me. Those Pekes had never seen another dog. When they got a whiff of me they boiled over and charged. Knocked me right over.

"Well, you know us terriers, especially when we're being nipped by needles. I forgot about being a diplomat."

"Not a dog fight!" exclaimed Gib.

"A rouser," admitted Owney. "I chased those mops around screens, out to a porch, and they went yipping all the way!"

Back in the throne room, his fine Chinese patience gone, the Emperor screamed about chopping off heads. Chinese appeared from every nook and cranny. And the American ambassador patted his pockets until they jingled and said nothing at all as two guards seized him.

"I caught up to those Pekes under a bush in the garden. All five of them were waiting for me. But not to fight. No, not to fight. 'We're out. We're out,' they yapped. 'We used you as an excuse. But don't be bitey. We've never been out. Not really to explore. And we are dogs, you know."

"What happened then?" asked Gib.

"I was miserable," said Owney. "I couldn't go back to the palace. The Pekes said the Emperor would chop off my head. He had a man he hired to do nothing but chop off heads. The Pekes said the American ambassador would be lucky if his head wasn't chopped off. And they were sure China would say that the United States had kidnapped them."

"That would have been an international incident. Right?" cried Gib.

"Right," agreed Owney. "Well, there wasn't anything to do at the moment. So we took off, all six of us.""

"But why?"

"I told you before," said the dog. "There's a time to be found and a time to let things simmer down.

"The Emperor would miss his dogs. He'd feel sorry for them and start a big search. He'd think twice about cutting off the American ambassador's head because the American Navy would drop around to ask him about it. And the United States Post Office Department might cut off the China mail; then the rich merchants couldn't get any more letters with money in them from America."

"Wow, wowie!" said Gib. "What did you do?"

"I played daddy dog to those Pekes, that's what. I thought that when the Emperor gave the word and maybe offered a reward some of the people would pick them up. They only weighed about three-quarters of a pound apiece. But the Pekes said no. They said the Chinese people were too smart. Anybody who picked them up for a reward would be blamed for stealing them to get the reward. Snick! Off would come his head! I noticed that the people who did see us during the next two days gave us a lot of room. But those palace Pekes weren't too bright about practical things."

"Like what?"

"Like finding a meal or two," snapped Owney. "It wasn't easy. There were no leftovers in China. What every Chinese person ate came out even. But I'd been on the road a time or two before, as you know. I could handle a loose chicken or two. And I showed them how to get feathers off some ducks. I taught them to be careful about drinking water too. No puddle lapping. They liked everything. We toured around Süchow and the open countryside. Once in a while we'd hide."

"What for?" asked Gib.

"We kept seeing mounted men riding around all the time. The Pekes said they were Imperial Cavalry, the Emperor's soldiers. Lucky for us too…."

"Did they find you?"

"Don't rush me," said Owney.