“Eh? What’s that?” cried the manager excitedly; and Stan gave him a brief account of what had passed, while every word was listened to eagerly.
“It was quite out of the question for my father to be left,” ended Stan at last, “and so I am sent to help instead.”
“Humph!” said the manager, looking grave. “It has come to that, has it? Restless, uncontrolled savages. Well,” he added, changing his tone again, “so they’ve sent a boy like you?”
“Yes.”
“And for want of decent help and companionship, I’m to make the best of you?”
“I suppose so,” said Stan coldly, and wishing the while that he was back at Hai-Hai, home, or anywhere but at this solitary hong.
“But I don’t think you’ll like the life here, young fellow,” said the manager, with an unpleasant smile. “There’s a very savage, piratical lot of Chinese about on this river. It has an awful character. If you’ll take my advice—Will you?”
“Of course,” said Stan quietly. “You must know better, from your experience here, than I do.”
“That’s right; I do. Well, then, you take it: go back by the next boat. It doesn’t look as if things are very safe at Hai-Hai, but it’s a paradise to this place here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Stan, “but I certainly can’t go back; I have come to stay.”