Peter Gross's face fell.
"That's too bad!" he exclaimed in evident disappointment. "I thought sure I'd find 'em here. You're sure you haven't overlooked them? That Frenchie might call for a hop; we picked him out of a hop-joint at Frisco."
"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally.
Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity.
"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps don't get back on shipboard by nightfall I'll have to buy some men from you, Ah Sing. Have y' got three good hands that know one rope from another?"
"Two men off schooner Marianna," Ah Sing replied in his same thick monotone. "One man, steamer Callee-opie. Good strong man. Work hard."
"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked pleasantly.
Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation.
"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him belly sick. Come here, get well. Allie big, strong man."
"How much a head?"