"Where's Motor Matt?" cried McGlory.
"My no savvy!"
"How did you happen to be here?"
"Stleet cal."
"What're you making a run from the show grounds for without saying a word to Matt?"
That was a point which Ping did not care to reveal. He was not above being careless with the truth in a pinch, having been raised that way. But, while he might resort to a little harmless fiction with McGlory, he would have cut his tongue out before he would have fibbed to Motor Matt.
"Makee see Wily Bill ketchee cal," Ping explained; "my ketchee same cal. Follow Wily Bill. Wily Bill jump from cal. My jump, too. Tumble all ovel load. Wily Bill lun fo' top-side bank. Motol Matt chasee. Motol Matt leavee gas hlorsee by bank. My follow, no findee."
Out of this pigeon English McGlory captured a few germs of sense.
"What the nation was he following Wily for?" demanded Burton. "How did he know we wanted Wily?"
Ping was still equal to the emergency.