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There was Drummond's, of course, but to deal with him was out of the question. "Hello, Hiram boy!" Lucy called sweetly as he walked past the shooting gallery. "You look worried. Whassa malla? Jo fired you?" "Not yet," said Hiram briefly. "I was looking for a machine so that I could catch up with the outfit, but can't seem to locate one." "Not many about town this time of year," she commented.
He always pretended to drive us away, bellowing fiercely as soon as he caught sight of us, "Whassa malla you? Alle time you come see Ali Quong! Ketchem too-oo much tlouble for po-or old Chinaman" the whole time with his wrinkled, brown face wreathed in smiles.
So he dropped down and lay silent, listening to the rattle of the huge chain and the vicious clash of the trap, and the Indian burst out scolding. "Whassa mala!" he gritted, "my foot get caught in trap. You come fixum fixum quick!" Wunpost rose up slowly and peered out through a crack and he caught the gleam of a gun.
"You tell Florette I gotta leave this place," he concluded firmly. "Bert, now you tell Florette. Will you, Bert? Huh?" "Freddy I Freddy, lissen now. I got somethin' to tell you." "What?" "I I come on to tell you, Freddy. Tha's why I come out to tell you, see?" "Well, spit it out," Freddy laughed. Bert groaned. "Whassa matter, Bert? What's eatin' you?" "I I Say, Freddy, lissen lissen, now, Freddy.
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