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Updated: May 10, 2025
Morrell's body relax as though from a tension. After a moment Wing Sam shuffled into the room carrying a soiled folded paper. "Man he tell you lead this chop-chop," said he. Murmuring an apology, Nan opened the paper. With a cry she sprang to her feet. Her face had gone white. "What is it?" cried Mrs. Morrell in apparent anxiety. Without a word Nan extended the paper.
"Those noises have stopped, down there," he said to Rudolph; and rising, gave his orders briefly. The coolies were to dig, strike into the sappers' tunnel, and report at once: "Chop-chop. Meantime, Rudie, let's take a holiday. We can smoke in the courtyard."
"Will you give us a thousand dollars to set you down in San Francisco?" Charlie rose. "I go back. I tell um China boy what you say 'bout liver pill. Bime-by I come back." "That means he'll take our offer back to his friends," said Wilbur, in a low voice. "You best hurry chop-chop," he called after Charlie; "we go home pretty soon!"
Here they saw a group of Chinamen squatting on the floor, engaged in playing a game with small figures carved in bone. "Hi, boys," called Mr. Martin; "can tell where Ching-Fu keeps?" "My tellee massa," cried one of the younger men, rising. "My go long that side, show wai-lo." "Come on, then: chop-chop." "Allo lightee, massa: my savvy."
"Sing-dance tomollow, then?" he said, with a condensed air of general disappointment. "Chop-chop in a pay look-see show on Ham Hamstl oh damme! on 'Ampstead 'Eath?
"Him flaid shark come back, catchum chop-chop." "Stand by here with a couple of cutting-in spades," cried Moran, "and fend off if you see any shark; now, then, are you ready, mate?" Wilbur took his determination in both hands, threw off his coat and sandals, and went over the stern rail. "Put your ear to the water," called Moran from above; "sometimes you can hear their flukes."
"I can't make him out," she said. "It can't be Mr. Lang, for this man is coming from a direction different from the one he took, if the footprints of his pony leading out of this camp are any indication." "Man b'longey horse hab go chop-chop!" volunteered Ping.
Marian fancied she could hear the chop-chop of his frothing jaws. Then, suddenly came catastrophe. With the mad perversity of his kind, her sled deer, suddenly turning from his position beside the sled, whirled about in a wide, sweeping circle which threatened to overturn her sled and leave her alone, defenseless against the hungry pack. It was a terrible moment.
The rush and the swing of the long line, the crack of the driver's mighty whip and his warning shouts to "Jack" or "Pete" to pull and keep step, the steady chop-chop thud of the sand-shaker, will be seen and heard no more. In the place of the horse-plough has come the electric sweeper, a less showy but a good deal more effective device. The plough itself is gone.
I smiled to myself at this, and went off into the garden, where I could hear Morgan's great hoe with its regular chop-chop, as he battled away with the weeds which refused to acknowledge the difference between wild waste and cultivated ground. "Hullo!" cried Morgan, as soon as he saw me. "What, have they slipped off?" "Slipped off? No," I said, indignantly. "I want a peach."
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