“No, no,” I cried; “he will get well.”
“Yes; get well, ploper quite well, and go wash gole. Makee flesh blead—flesh tea?”
“No, not yet,” said Mrs Dean, who looked askant at the fresh-comer, and as if she did not approve of him.
“Allee light. Wait. Good fi’ makee blead cakee.”
“I say, Quong,” whispered Esau, “did you two find much gold?”
Quong gave him a quaint laughing look. “You waitee littee bit. Allee same ask Mas Gunson. You sabbee?”
“But he can’t tell us. I say, do you know where he hid what you got?”
“No; no sabbee. Mas Gunson know allee same. You wait.”
Just then I heard a cough in the enclosure, and drew back a little uneasily as the door opened, and Mr Raydon entered.
“Good morning, my lads,” he said, gravely and coldly. “Ah, Quong, you here? Well, nurse, how is your patient?”