They unloaded their bedding and other effects, then set about to light a fire in the fairly business-like stove that stood in a corner of the kitchen. They were busy at it, when the smooth, greasy, grinning face of a fat Chinaman showed round the door-post.
“Hullo, John,––come on in!” greeted Jim.
The oriental obeyed, with just a little show of diffidence, although diffidence of any degree did not sit too well on the general sleek confidence of his appearance.
“Hullo!” said Phil, looking him over.
“Hullo!” said the Chinaman, familiarly. “You new bossy-man,––eh?”
“You bet! Where you come from, John?”
“Where me come? Me live here. Me stop little house way down orchard. Me work allee time nicee day;––live here allee time winter.
“You let me stop,––eh?”
The Chinaman was quick in getting to business.
“What do you say, Jim?” asked Phil.