"Whassa malla Pete?"
"This man break his head with chair."
"Ooo!" breathed Hung Wo, peering through the bars, "me no go in."
"Well, now, you see what you git for your cussedness," observed the deputy coldly. "The Chink won't come in and the chances are you'll starve to death; that is, providin' them other fellers don't beat you to death first, for makin' 'em lose their breakfast. Feelin' pretty cagey, ain't they?"
They were, and Pecos realized that if he didn't square himself with Hung Wo right away and get him to feed the animals, he would have a bread riot on his hands later—and besides, he was hungry himself. So he spoke quickly and to the point.
"What's the matter, Charley?" he expostulated, "you 'fraid of me?"
"Me no likee!" said the Chinaman impersonally.
"No, of course not; but here—lemme tell you! You savvy Pete Monat—all same alcalde, eh? You savvy Mike—all same boss, hey? Well, last night me lick Pete and Mike. You see this strap? All right; me boss now—you give me big pie every day, you come in!"
"Me no got big pie to-day," protested Hung Wo anxiously.