"Hey! Got any water?" croaked one.
In response, Prince Chu merely grunted and poured water from one of the bags into the stew pan which he happened to have in his hand. Still squatting on his heels, he handed it to the man who reached for it, and the other, the shorter one, made a grab for the bag.
The old Chinaman drew it back and held up his hand in refusal. He was particular about who drank from his water bags.
The bandy-legs growled a curse and reached lightning-quick toward his hip, but as quickly checked the motion. "Wot'n 'ell d' yuh mean?" he hoarsely demanded. "Can'tcha give uh man uh drink?"
"No savvy," responded Yuen serenely.
"Don't get too ripe, Shorty," cautioned the taller, bleak-nosed one with red-rimmed eyes. "Take uh swig outa this."
After draining the tin, the ragged Shorty extended it for more.
Obligingly, indifferently, Prince Chu refilled it.
"Can'tcha talk English?" questioned the sun-blistered rogue.
