"Let's have it!" he barked again. "Show us where it is."
"No savvy," repeated Prince Yuen Ming Chu.
"Hey, Squint," interrupted the scalded-faced Shorty, "maybe the crazy Chink don't savvy!"
"He savvies, all right," was the response. "Step around from behind that donkey, there, yuh heathen. Quick!"
Yuen obeyed. He knew that the murderer would shoot if he did not.
The renegade laughed. "All right, John. Now yer commencin' t' learn English. Where's the stuff?"
Prince Chu took his second discomfiture collectedly.
"I admit that I can speak your language," he said, "but you have not made it plain what it is that you want of me."
"Holy fish!" the gunman exclaimed. "What next? Yuh can talk, can'tcha? Whadda we want, huh? We want the hop, the snowflakes, er whatever kind yuh peddle. An' we want it right now—get me?"
"You are mistaken," replied Yuen. "I do not peddle opiates. I have nothing of the kind. If I had, I would gladly let you have it."