“Yes, they’re quiet enough now,” whispered Barkins; “but you look at that big fellow with the yellow belt, he keeps on making faces at us.”
“Let him; that will not hurt us.”
“I know that, little stupid,” he cried, “but what follows may. Look at him now.”
I looked up quickly, and saw the man turn away from looking at us, and say something to his fierce-looking companions, who glanced towards us and laughed.
“There,” said Barkins, “I’m not going to be laughed at by those jolly old pigtailed heathens. Here, Ching, old chap, we want to go.”
As he spoke he gave our guide a sharp nudge, which made him turn round and stare.
“Ti—ope—I—ow!”
“Do you hear? We want to go!”
“Ti—ope—I—ow!” howled Ching, beginning again.
“Yes, we want to go,” I said anxiously.