“Hop Lung, stop that!” commanded Mrs. Powell sternly. “Those fish are too good to throw away!”
“Bloys fool Hop Lung,” was the reply. “One flishee—two flishee—four flishee—all whole lot flishee,” he continued, trying his best to explain. And then by pantomime he showed how he had found the first of the fish and placed them in the pantry.
“It’s nothing more than some of their tricks, Hop Lung,” said Mrs. Powell. “They had no right to play such tricks, and I’ll call them to account for it. But you had better pick up the fish which you threw outside. They’re too good to be thrown away.”
“Hop Lung flix bloys, play flishee tlick,” answered the Celestial. And then a little later he set about preparing supper.
The boys did not think it wise to return to the house just then, and so wandered off to the stable where the ranch horses were kept.
“It was certainly a rich joke,” remarked Fred, with a chuckle.
“I’ll bet Hop Lung will have it in for us for that,” returned Randy.
And Hop Lung did have it in for them, as they were to learn in the near future.