He lurched across the floor, nearly falling over Stuart's legs, took up a mat and a cushion, lurched into the further corner and cast himself down.
"Ain't I one o' yer oldest customers, Pidgin?" he inquired. "One o' yer oldest, I am."
"Blight side twelve-time," muttered the Chinaman. "Getchee me in tlouble, Bill. Number one police chop."
"Not the first time it wouldn't be!" retorted the fireman. "Not the first time as you've been in trouble, Pidgin. An' unless they 'ung yer—which it ain't 'umanly possible to 'ang a Chink—it wouldn't be the last—an' not by a damn long way …an' not by a damn long way!"
Ah-Fang-Fu, shrugging resignedly, shuffled from bunk to bunk in quest of a disused pipe, found one, and returning to the extemporised table, began to load it, muttering to himself.
"Don't like to 'ear about your wicked past, do you?" continued Bill.
"Wicked old yellow-faced 'eathen! Remember the 'dive' in 'Frisco,
Pidgin? Wot a rough 'ouse! Remember when I come in—full up I was:
me back teeth well under water—an' you tried to Shanghai me?"
"You cutee palaber. All damn lie," muttered the Chinaman.
"Ho! a lie is it?" roared the other. "Wot about me wakin' up all of a tremble aboard o' the old Nancy Lee—aboard of a blasted wind-jammer! Me—a fireman! Wot about it? Wasn't that Shanghaiin'? Blighter! An' not a 'oat' in me pocket—not a 'bean'! Broke to the wide an' aboard of a old wind-jammer wot was a coffin-ship—a coffin-ship she was; an' 'er old man was the devil's father-in-law. Ho! lies! I don't think!"
"You cutee palaber!" chattered Ah-Fang-Fu, busy with the pipe. "You likee too much chin-chin. You make nice piece bhobbery."
"Not a 'bean'," continued Bill reminiscently—"not a 'oat.'" He sat up violently. "Even me pipe an' baccy was gone!" he shouted. "You'd even pinched me pipe an' baccy! You'd pinch the whiskers off a blind man, you would, Pidgin! 'And over the dope. Thank Gawd somebody's still the right stuff!"