"Schmarty," cried the Dutchman. "Can I see dose pocket?"
"Thief, thief," exclaimed the Indian, shaking his long black hair. "You steal money."
The other two turned on him savagely.
"There aint no man going to call me that."
"Vat he say, vait, und I vill his het mit der boddle demolisch. Who you say dat to, mee, or Meest'r Bates?"
"Oh, you make me tired," cried the lavender man, "you two. One of you two, pay Missus Amaloa and quit fooling."
"Come on," cried the Kanaka, "pay up or I'll ring for the police."
"Vooling, vooling," shouted the Dutchman, dancing in his rage. "You sheats Missus Amaloa und you gall dot vooling."
"Who cheats," cried the other two simultaneously.
"Vail, how do I know," yelled the Dutchman, purple to the eyes. "How do I know vich."