"And you spent all you had earned and saved in forty years, and then went in debt fifty thousand to other Chinamen to pick that cotton, and he hasn't paid you a dollar?"
"No pay yet; maybee some time," he replied, stoically.
"What a damn shame!" Bob seldom swore, but he felt justified for this once. "Can't you collect it under the Mexican laws?"
Ah Sing slowly, futilely, turned his hands palms outward.
"Mexican say Misty Jenkins big man. Damn Chinaman no good no way."
Noah Ezekiel came in from the field.
"As my dad says," remarked the hill billy, "this Chink has held on to the handle of the plow without ever looking back. The field is O. K."
"How much will you need, Ah Sing?" Bob turned to the Chinaman.
"Maybee get along with thousan' dollars—fifteen hund' maybee."
"All right," said Bob, "I'm going to let you have it. You can get the money three hundred at a time as you need it."