“You git only one flish?” queried the cook in surprise.
“Well, maybe you can catch more,” put in Randy.
“Hop Lung no go flishee. Hop Lung cookee,” was the calm reply. And then the cook walked back to the rear of the ranch house.
Watching their chance, the boys stole back, some to the window where was located the string which had been attached to the board on the top of the cabinet, and others to another window from which they might see what would take place. Hop Lung had gone inside and picked up the fish left on the cabinet shelf. He looked it over, wiped off the shelf carefully, and then took up the fish and disappeared into the pantry with it.
“Now then, Andy!” whispered his twin. And thereupon Andy gave the string in his hand two or three little jerks. From the board on the top of the cabinet a fish fell down to the shelf below.
It had hardly fallen in place when Hop Lung came from the pantry. He looked to see how matters were going on the stove, and then turned again to the cabinet.
A queer look came over his face when he saw the fish lying in the same place that the first had occupied. He looked toward the door to find no one there.
“Him funny,” he murmured in his Pidgin-English. “Him vellee funny.” Then he took up the second fish and walked into the pantry with it.
No sooner had he done this than Andy, doing his best to control his laughter, jiggled the string again. This time, as luck would have it, two fish came down, to light side by side on the cabinet shelf.
Again Hop Lung entered the kitchen and again he looked at what was cooking on the stove. He stirred the mass in one of the pots carefully, and then came back to his cabinet to get some seasoning.