"No have got," whooped the Indian, beginning to get angry. "Hug-gh! You got money. He give you money," and he turned his face towards the Dutchman.
"That's what I thought," asserted Mr. Bates.
"Tausend Teufels no," shouted the other. "I tell you no."
"You, you," growled the Indian, plucking at Mr. Bates' coat sleeve, "you have got."
"Yah, soh," cried the Dutchman, shaking his finger at the lavender man, excitedly, "pay dose finf thalers, Meest'r Paites."
"Pay yourself," exclaimed the other, "I haven't touched them. I'll be any name, I'll be any name if I've touched them."
"Well, I ain't going to wait here all night," shrilled the Kanaka woman impatiently. The Dutchman shook his finger solemnly towards where he thought the Indian was sitting.
"It's der Indyun. It's Zhim. Get ut vrom Zhim."
"Lie, lie," vociferated the Indian, "white man lie. No have got. You hav got, or you."
"I'll turn my pockets inside out," exclaimed Mr. Bates.