“Here, Sing Lung,� he said, thrusting it toward the Chinese cook. “Give us a tune, won’t you? The girls have heard, all the way back in New York, what a player you are.�
“Me not so good,� and the cook grinned modestly, eyeing the box enviously, however.
“Sure you are!� Roy declared. “You play, Sing Lung, and then we’ll leave it to the girls. Hey?�
“Oh, please, Sing Lung!� coaxed Belle Ada.
“Well—â€� the cook hesitated, but it was plain to be seen that he was more than willing to oblige. Teddy at last settled the question by forcing the box into the cook’s hands.
With a look of almost reverence on his face, Sing Lung opened the box—and, as he did so, there sprang from it a mouse!
With a yell, the cook dropped the case and dashed into the mess-house, from which there immediately issued an explosion of high-fire Cantonese. The two girls, who had looked at the little rodent with simple curiosity and with none of the fright which members of the feminine sex are supposed to exhibit on such occasions, laughed merrily at the strange spectacle of a Chinese running from a mouse.
“He’s scared to death of mice,� Roy said, a wide grin on his face. “When I heard him talking about serving them to the punchers, I thought I’d try a little kidding myself. He’s got a trap back there that he catches the mice in, so I took one out and put it in his fiddle-box.�
“Poor old Sing Lung! I don’t think much of your joke!� declared Belle Ada.
“You’d better tell him the danger’s over, or he’ll go through the roof,� Mr. Manley declared, with a chuckle. “Teddy, you go in and bring him out, will you? Say Roy chased the mouse away.�