“And now, Wau Shun, though I can not weigh my gold against thy services to me, yet, I pray thee, name some reward that will not put me to shame to bestow on thee.”
“Will the payment of fifty dollars afflict thee, my lord?”
“Nay, Wau Shun, that is the due of but a part of thy merits—the slaying of Sam Lee, for instance. Here is more for thy other many good deeds,” and Quong Lung tossed on the table a heavy bag that chinked opulently. “Moreover,” he continued, “now that Lee Toy, our keenest hatchet, is dead, some worthy successor to him must be found, and who so worthy as Wau Shun, the slayer of the uncommon slain, Lee Toy?”
“Further, Instigator,” interrupted Wau Shun, squinting atrociously, for the liquor had begun to mount to his head; “further, it seems to me that if anything happened to thee—which God forbid!—I might be found worthy to sit in this thy chair by reason of thy recommendation, and—my worthiness.”
“Of course, of course,” said Quong Lung, looking at the point of his cigar and crossing his knees. “The See Yups have need of strong men, and who so strong as Wau Shun! Drink once more to thy worthiness.”
After they had disposed of the liquor and smoked awhile, Wau Shun said, familiarly and half-insolently: “Quong Lung, thou owest me reparation for thy insults of two nights ago; and seeing thou art seated on the chair of humiliation” (here Wau Shun lapsed into impudent vernacular), “you must needs do as I say or be twisted out of shape.”
“What!” exclaimed Quong Lung, putting one hand carelessly behind his head and resting the other against the adjacent wall, whereon was a painted panel that glowed with cherries—“what! wouldst thou plague me?”
“Nay, but I would discipline you,” said Wau Shun, thickly; “I would discipline you with cramps, if need were.”
“And cramps only?” asked Quong Lung, toying with the flower-painted panel. “’Twere dangerous to play with me so lightly. Cramps can not touch me and are for fools alone.”
“Then I would kill you otherwise, smooth, fat hog!”