“He is a song-bird, too,” observed Stacy.
“Woo, you must be saving of the provisions,” called Grace. “Remember we must make our supplies go a long way, for we shall not get any more for some time.”
“Don’t wolly till to-mollow. Hi-lee, hi-lo; hi-lee, hi-lo!” sang the guide.
“What’s that he says?” demanded Tom Gray.
“He says, ‘Don’t worry until to-morrow,’” interpreted Emma.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Chunky, and the Overland Riders joined in the laughter.
“You savvy plenty to-mollow. Me savvy glub to-mollow,” added Woo, chuckling to himself.
“He speaks hog Latin quite fluently, doesn’t he?” observed Stacy solemnly.
“You leave it to Smith. I found Smith, you know,” reminded Hippy Wingate pridefully.
“Hi-lee, hi-lo!” sang the Chinaman, continuing with his work, while the Overlanders, having finished their supper, gathered about the campfire, and forgot the heat of the California night in its cheerful glow. It seemed good to them to be out in the open once more, to be where they were obliged to depend almost wholly on their own resourcefulness for their food and lodging, if not for their lives, for they were going into perilous places, places fraught with dangers.