"How dit der gandle go off mit itseluf? Tell me dose."
Ping's grin faded from his yellow face, and he grew solemn and serious.
"No savvy, Clal. Him devil joss stick, awri'. Whoosh!"
A sudden suspicion darted through Carl's brain as he stared at Ping. The Chinese boy was altogether too serious.
"Py shiminy grickets!" whooped Carl, "vas it you dot douched him off ven der gandle vas my pack pehindt und I don'd see? Dit you make all der drouples? Oof I vas sure oof dot, den I vould eat you oop like some ham santviches."
Ping gave a yell of protest.
"We allee same fliends, huh?" he demanded. "Why my makee tlouble fo' fliend?"
"Vell, I don'd know for vy, aber such chokes iss nod vat I like. Oof I findt oudt dot you lit der gandle, den I vill ged efen for dot. You bed my life, I pay efery debt vat I owe."
Ping looked serious. Then, glad that he was able to change the subject, he remarked:
"You losee one piecee papel in tent, Clal?"