Tsuda watched him, his eyes showing a glitter of suppressed excitement. “Ever try any of it yourself?” he asked, his voice nervous and oddly shrill.
“No, I never did,” laughed King. “What’s it like, Tsuda?”
“Say,” the other replied, in an offended yet subtly smirking way, “do you take me—gn—for a fellow with inside information?”
King laughed again, this time rather dryly. “I guess you’ve given it a trial, at least—just now and then, perhaps?”
Slowly, and at first as though grudgingly, Tsuda smiled. The smile spread into a very clever, confidential grin. “You needn’t please mention it to the Captain,” he muttered, “but this is a damn-God-forsaken hole.”
“I understand,” replied King, his tone slightly labelled.
“Sss!” Tsuda acknowledged. And then, after a brief pause which, on his side, was obviously not a little breathless, he pursued: “Maybe you feel that way too, later on—later on—gn—and want to give it a try—yes, sir!”
King fairly howled with mirth. Tsuda was a trifle transparent, after all. But tough. Oh, he was a tough old bird! He was anxious to share his iniquities....
“I have an extra spirit lamp,” Tsuda murmured meekly, in a very small voice, his eyes humbly on the turf, “and—gn—some pipes I smuggled in,” he half giggled. “It’s a damn lonely hole here—you shall see. The people here before were lucky to clear out—yes, sir! The coal people and that albatross-dutchman business—all rot,” he grinned parenthetically.
“I guess you’ve been here long enough to know by this time,” suggested King.