“Slow? I guess everything’s slow down here,” said Ned in a low voice.
The agent came leisurely from his office, walked to the end of the platform, and, pointing toward a low shed, remarked:
“That is where the stage is kept. I will call, and see if Hop Sing is there.”
Then he called, but in such a low tone, as if he was afraid he might strain his voice, that it did not seem as if he could be heard ten feet away. Jerry stood it as long as he could and then said:
“I guess Hop Sing must be taking his noon nap. I’ll go over and wake him up.”
“Ah, the señor is in a hurry,” and the Mexican agent smiled as though that was a strange thing. “If he would wait an hour, or perhaps two, Hop Sing might awaken. Besides, to-morrow—”
“Not for ours,” said Ned. “We’ve got to go to-day.”
The agent shrugged his shoulders, and went back into his little office to resume his nap. Jerry walked over to the shed.
“Hey! Hop Sing!” he called, as he approached. “Where’s the stage?”
“Want stage? Take lide? All lite! Me come! Chop-chop! Give number one, top-slide lide!” exclaimed a voice, and a small Chinaman jumped down from the stage seat, where, under the shade of the shed he had been sleeping, and began to untie the halters of the mules that were attached to the ram-shackle old vehicle.