“Oh, allee quitee tlue. Wing nevah tellee big thumpy. Too much ’flaid Misteh Blunt find out. Knock down.”
“One reason for telling the truth,” said Blunt bitterly. “But that is quite true; I should if I found him out.”
“Plenty man lun away up to mountain; soljee, pilate come lob house, buln evelyting up. Shoot bang. Wing, only lun away like evelybody.”
“I’m afraid it’s all true,” said Blunt sombrely.
“Eh? No!” cried Wing excitedly. “Blunt tell big lie now; not ’flaid a bit. Makee Chinee pilate muchee flighten. Makee lun away.”
“Perhaps,” said the manager grimly. “But how far away are these people, Wing?”
“Come velly soon. Big junk sail down livah. Wing see um.”
“Well, you all hear?” said the manager sternly. “No; you are not all here. Call every one. I want everybody to hear how we stand.—You, Wing, if you’re well enough, get all the Chinamen together.”
Wing went off to the far end of the warehouse and wharf, one of the clerks to the offices, and in a few minutes every man, European and Asiatic, was present, and heard of the threatened attack; after which the manager looked in Stan’s direction and said sharply:
“There! you have all heard how we stand, and there are two courses open. One is to crowd on board the river-boat and set all sail down to the port, and get out to sea and coast along north for Hai-Hai.”