"Why ask questions, Ned? I feel like taking the risk; I am a Yankee, and therefore a natural gambler. You of course are not, are you? And then it's spring-time, and from twenty-three to the other end of threescore years and ten is a long, long time; and even if we 'bust,' there'll be lots of time to build again. So we will go halves, the third claim to be held in Phon's name, and Phon to work on wages."
"Let us have old Phon in. Phon! Phon!" shouted Corbett.
The Chinaman, who was cleaning the tin plates by a creek hard by, came slowly towards them.
"Well, Phon, did you lose all your dollars last night?" asked his master.
"Me tell you debbil say me win—debbil know, you bet," replied Phon coolly.
"And did you win?"
"Me win a hundred dollars—look!" and the little man held out a roll of dirty notes, amounting to something more than the sum named.
"You were in luck, Phon. 'Spose I were you, I no go gamble any more," remarked Corbett, dropping into that pigeon English, which people seem to think best adapted to the comprehension of the Chinaman.
"Oh yes, you go gamble too. Debbils bodder me very bad last night. They say you go gamble, Chance he go gamble, Phon he go gamble too. All go gamble togedder. And then debbil he show me gold, gold,—so much gold me no able to carry it. Where you goin' now?"