"Yes," replied Stuart with repressed excitement—"until someone called Fo-Hi is at home, or visible; the word 'got' may mean either of those things."
"Fo-Hi," whispered Max, "is 'The Scorpion!'
"I believe you are right," said Stuart—who had good reason to know it. "My God! what a foul den! The reek is suffocating. Look at that yellow lifeless face yonder, and see that other fellow whose hand hangs limply down upon the floor. Those bunks might be occupied by corpses for all the evidence of life that some of them show."
"Morbleu! do not raise your voice; for some of them are occupied by 'Scorpions.' You noted the words of Ah-Fang? Ssh!"
The old Chinaman returned with his curious shuffling walk, raising his hand to beckon to them.
"Number one piece bunk, lo!" he chattered.
"Good enough," growled Stuart.
The two crossed and reclined upon the uncleanly mats.
"Make special loom," explained Ah-Fang-Fu. "Velly special chop!"
He passed from bunk to bunk, and presently came to a comatose Chinaman from whose limp hand, which hung down upon the floor, the pipe had dropped. This pipe Ah-Fang-Fu took from the smoker's fingers and returning to the box upon which the tin lamp was standing began calmly to load it.