"Fortyfi'."
"That makes three dollars," said Matt, pulling some money from his pocket. "Take it, Hop, and call the account square. Now run in and get Carl's laundry and mine while I'm getting him out of his tangle."
The three silver dollars soothed the Chinaman's injured feelings, and he turned and vanished into the house.
"Say," cried Carl, "you vas a pooty goot feller! Vat's your name, hey?"
"Matt King."
"You lif in Ash Fork?"
"No; I'm just here waiting for a man I'm anxious to see."
"Vell, dot's my fix. I'm likevise vaitin' for a man dot I vant do see mit a club. He's aboudt my size, only not kevite so goot looging as me, und pigger oop an' down as I am der odder vay. His name iss Pringle. He vas a pad egg, I tell you dot. Can you tell me vere dot feller iss?"
Matt shook his head.
"Never heard of him, Carl," he answered.