"No savvy the pidgin. Come on same tlain."
"Then you got here on the same train we did?"
"Sure."
"Where have you been keeping yourself?"
"My stay by othel hotel. Bumby, thisee molnin', makee sneak fo' Gla'stone House. Watchee beal, then fi'clackel makee go bang. China boy lun allee same Sam Hill. Teleglaph pole him heap slick. Makee climb, makee slide down, thlee time. Beal ketchee one shoe, ketchee othel shoe, mebbyso ketchee China boy neck, sendee top side, but fo' Motol Matt. Whoosh! You heap mad with Ping?"
"What's the use of getting mad at you, Ping?" smiled Matt.
The little Chinaman bounded joyfully out of his chair.
"My workee for you some mo'?" he asked.
"You seem bound to work for me, whether I've got anything for you to do, or not."
"My no havee luck 'less my workee fo' you. Plenty queer pidgin. One piecee luck come plenty time when my stay 'lound Motol Matt; no gettee luck when my no stay. What you do now, huh?"