“I wonder if any one will have to go hungry on our account?” said Joe.
“I hope not, but I can’t help it,” returned Mr. Bickford. “Necessity’s the fust law of nature, Joe. I feel twice as strong as I did twenty minutes ago.”
“There’s nothing like a full stomach, Joshua. I wonder to whom we are indebted for this repast?”
Joe was not long in having his query answered. An exclamation, as of one startled, called the attention of the two friends to the doorway, where, with a terrified face, stood a Chinaman, his broad face indicating alarm.
“It’s a heathen Chinee, by gosh!” exclaimed Joshua.
Even at that time Chinese immigrants had begun to arrive in San Francisco, and the sight was not wholly new either to Joshua or Joe.
“Good morning, John,” said our young hero pleasantly.
“Good morning, heathen,” said Mr. Bickford. “We thought we’d come round and make you a mornin’ call. Is your family well?”
The Chinaman was reassured by the friendly tone of his visitors, and ventured to step in. He at once saw that the food which he had prepared for himself had disappeared.
“Melican man eat John’s dinner,” he remarked in a tone of disappointment.