"There goes my pile," thought Carter bitterly. "The greedy old ruffian's going to hook it for himself."
The King went on. "Dem Kate, she fit for be O'Neill and Craven now?"
"I suppose you may say she is."
"Smith an' Slade all-e-same work-boy for O'Neill and Craven?"
"If you like to put it that way."
"Good. And you," went on this well-informed monarch, wagging a fat forefinger, "you want marry Kate, same's I wanted to marry Laura, an' she no fit for have you, same's Laura no fit for have me dem time?"
Carter dropped his chin onto his knees and said nothing. The King went on, "O Carter, you fit for save my life dis day. If you no come wid dem canoe, I lib for be crocodile chop this minute. So I do not take your red—I do not make you lib for die as I say dis morning, but I fit for make you glad. Dem Dutchmen hold dem factory now at Mokki?"
"They do."
"Then I send my war-boys in at back an' stop roads. But I take ju-ju off roads to dem O'Neill and Craven factories at Smooth, an' Monk, and Malla-Nulla."
"That's very good of you, I'm sure."