“No,” said Mr Raydon, smiling; “far from it. There, come up to my place, and let me hear what you have been doing.”
As we approached the strangers’ quarters, Quong made his appearance with his eyes twinkling.
“Plenty flesh tea,” he cried. “Plenty new blead.”
“Hullo, my Celestial friend,” said Gunson, smiling at the eager-looking little fellow. “Did you see me coming?”
“No. Not see. Gley tell me Mr Gunson come, and make tea dilectly, and cook bacon.”
“Ready to come on with me now, Quong?” said Gunson. “I’m going up the western part.”
Quong stared.
“What! Go away? No. Stop allee long here.”
“That’s right, my lad. Don’t leave good quarters. Been washing for gold lately?”
“Eh? Washee washee gole? Too much piecy make work. Cook along big meat. No go out at all. You likee likee flesh blead, not blead high.”