At last, worn out by mental and physical exertion, he threw himself on the bed and dropped into fitful slumber.
He was roused by the opening door, and beheld the Japanese enter with a tray of food.
“Nixy on the starvation stunt, then,” he cried, joyously. “Why, I say Kito, if you don’t come across with ’most as good eats as me Aunt Becky, an’ that’s goin’ some!”
Kito stood, with folded arms, watching his prisoner’s appetite assert itself. Then he said, “You make ’nother piece racket like those, an’ I break your honorable arm.”
“You will!” And for a moment, Fibsy sprang to action. Then remembering the skill of his foe, he fell into dejection again.
“Aw, now Kite,” he began, in a conciliatory tone, “let’s chew this over,—me’n you. There’s some mistake, you know.”
“Aexcuse, no mis-take. You here to stay. You can’t get aout. You holler an’ bang-bang, I break your arm. You jump out window, you break your leg. So.”
“Then I’m to stay here and be mousy-quiet?”
“Yes, so as a mice.”
“Yes, I will! Say, Kite, be a sport. I’ll make it up to you, if you’ll just lead me to a telephone, an’ let me fix up this here mistake. I don’t know any Auchincloss—”