and
we were perfectly silent while our guide kept on making a sound with his
mouth as he supped up the rich gravy.
"Here, hold hard a minute," said Smith. "I mean you, Ching."
"Yes?" said the Chinaman, with a pleasant smile; and he crossed his
chopsticks, and looked at our brother middy inquiringly.
"What was that we were eating a little while ago?"
"Clucumber; velly good."
"No, no; before that."
"Birds'-ness soup; velly cost much. Not all birds'-ness. Some
shark-fis' fin."
"I don't mean that, I tell you," cried Smith in an exasperated tone of
voice. "I mean that other brown meat cut up small into the brown sauce.
It was rabbit, wasn't it?"
"Oh no," said Ching decisively; "no labbit. Lit' mince-up pup-dog.
Nicee nicee."
Smith turned green, and his eyes rolled so that he actually squinted;
while Barkins uttered a low sound-like gasp. As for me, I felt as I
remember feeling after partaking meekly of what one of my aunts used to
call prune tea--a decoction made by boiling so many French plums along
with half an ounce of senna leaves.
"Oh gracious!" murmured Barkins; while Smith uttered a low groan.
"You both likee more?" said Ching blandly.
"No!" they cried so unanimously that it was like one voice; and in spite
of my own disgust and unpleasant sensations I felt as if I must laugh at
them.
"Oh, mawkish morsels!" muttered Barkins.
"You feel you have 'nuff?" said Ching, smiling. "Oh no. Loas' suck-pig
come soon. You eat velly much more."
"Not if I know it," whispered Smith to me. "I don't believe it'll be
pig."
"What then?" I whispered back.
"Kid."
"Well, kid's nice."
"Get out! I meant baby."
"Ugh! Don't."
"It's too late to say don't," groaned Smith. "We've done it."
"Hold up, old chap," I whispered. "Everybody's looking at you."
"Let 'em," he groaned. "Oh, I do feel so ill!"
"Nonsense! Look at Tanner."
He turned his wild eyes upon Barkins, whose aspect was ludicrous enough
to make him forget his own sensations, and he smiled a peculiarly
saddened, pensive smile; for our messmate was leaning towards Ching.
"Don't eat any more of that," he said faintly.
"Eat um all up; velly good."
"Can one get a drop of brandy here?"
"Dlop blandy? No. Velly nicee 'lack."
"What's 'lack?"
"No, no 'lack! lice spilit."
"'Rack!" I said--"arrack?"
"Yes, allack," said Ching, nodding.
"Let's have some--a glass each," said Barkins; "and look sharp."
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