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And though it is impossible to recognise any individual Chow, I fancied that this unit bore something more than a racial resemblance to the one from whom I had recovered Alf's bullocks. Moreover, he was riding the same horse. "Mornin', John," said I condescendingly. "You scoot-um long-a homestation big one hurry." "Lidee boundly," replied the early bird, in his mechanical tone
Feng, attracted by the voice, came to the door. "Hallo! What wanchee?" he demanded. "The country's overrun wid them yelly divils!" Mr. Quilty muttered. "What wanchee? Th' nerve iv him! Ye weathered-ivory monkey face, I've business wid yer betters!" "You keepee hossee off flowah bed," commanded Feng. "What foh you lidee him all oveh?" "Ask th' harrse!" Quilty retorted.
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