"My no shootee fi'clackel," expostulated Ping. "Melican boy shootee. Beal make one piecee mistake—chasee Ping, no chasee Melican boy. Whoosh! No likee."
"Where did you come from, Ping?" asked Matt.
"Mad'son. My no workee fo' anybody but Motol Matt. Tlakee tlain, come 'long."
"You didn't intend to stay in Madison any of the time, did you?"
Ping shook his head.
"Why didn't you tell me you were not going to stay there?"
"Plaps, my tellee, you no likee. My makee wait till come to Jimtown, then tellee. You no likee, no can send back."
A crafty grin worked its way over Ping's yellow face.
"You can't shake him, pard," laughed McGlory.
"How did you know where we were coming?" asked Matt.