But Mallison was a careful and expert driver and there was no real trouble, though when they at last emerged on a level stretch steam was again coming from the radiator.
“But she’ll soon cool off now,” said the mine owner. “I can run down to my shack with the motor cut off,” and this he did.
Mallison gave a shout as he neared the slab shack, a shout which was answered in a queer, high voice from within.
“That one of your men?” asked Jerry.
“I haven’t any men working for me yet,” Tinny explained. “I’ve been waiting for you fellows to see if you wanted to help develop my mine. That was Hang Gow. Hello there?” he shouted once more, as he brought the car to a stop at the side of the shack. “All aboard, Hang Gow! Got some hungry chaps here—one especially!” and he looked at Bob.
The boys gave a hasty glance about the shack, noting how well, if simply, it was constructed. They noted that in the rear a start had been made on a mining shaft. But just as they had got this far in their observations there emerged from the open door the figure of a fat, evidently good-natured, smiling Chinese.
“’Lo, Mist Mallison,” he called, for though he could not manage his R’s, Hang Gow got around the L very cleverly, hence the name Mallison offered no difficulties to him.
“Grub ready, Hang Gow?” asked Tinny, as he alighted.
“All leddy,” was the smiling answer. “All sammee got li’l bit mlo chow him fix up.”
The boys assumed that he meant he had a little more to do in the way of preparing food before they could come to the table.