The Overlanders looked. Just to the rear of Hippy Wingate stood a grinning Chinaman, both hands hidden in the ends of his flowing sleeves. The Oriental was bowing and scraping, his queue animatedly bobbing up and down. Stacy uttered a loud “Ha, ha!”
“Permit me to introduce to you the Honorable Woo Smith whom I have selected, subject to your approval, to accompany us on our journey to the High Sierras,” announced Hippy Wingate.
“But surely, Hippy, this man cannot be a guide,” protested Elfreda Briggs. “We need a guide!”
“Perhaps he isn’t, but you can’t find anything else with a magnifying glass in this burg. Should you folks think best not to accept him, we’ll go it alone. I’ve done the best I can. Remember, too, that I’m a sick man, that I’ve been mauled and keelhauled by a bunch of bandits and—”
“Do you speak English?” interrupted Grace Harlowe.
“Les. Me speak English velly fine.”
“You say his name is Woo Smith?” questioned Emma.
“The Honorable Woo Smith,” Hippy informed her.
“What has he done in the way of mountain work?” persisted Grace.
“I am informed that he has made frequent journeys to the mountains with prospecting parties and hunters as cook, guide and general handy man. At one time he was out with a government survey party.”