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Updated: May 21, 2025
Then lose, lose, keep on losing. Didn't know half the time what I was doing. To-day my settle up; no can pay office. A thousand dollars out! Lord! All same two thousand Mex', Tsang!" An invisible calculation was made on the end of the steamer trunk by a long, pointed, fingernail, but no change of expression crossed the yellow face. For an incalculable time Tsang sat, lost in thought.
Tsang will use all possible persuasion, and finally fairly drag the invited one to his house, although the man protests and struggles as much as possible.
"I'm up against it, in the hole, you know, much largee trouble," he amplified with many gestures, sitting on the side of his berth, and pounding out excited, incoherent phrases to the impassive figure opposite. "Company sent me out to collect money. My have spent all. No can go back home. Suppose my lose face, more better die!" Tsang shifted his position and nodded gravely.
And as the skater passed in full flight, followed by the ever-turning, wrathful, watchful, shaggy head, up went the short sea-bow, backed with whalebone. Tsang! and swift as light an arrow, drawn to the head, had crossed the space and buried its length nearly to the feather in the mass of yellow hair.
Its affinities I do not know; it has no peculiar written character, the Lepcha or Nagri being used. Dr. The same authority stated that their Lepcha name "Chung" is a corruption of that of their place of residence; possibly the "Tsang" province of Tibet. The Moormis are a scattered people, respecting whom I have no information, except from the authority quoted above.
"Me savey," said Tsang enigmatically. Again Reynolds studied the impassive face. "It's on the square, Tsang? You don't stand in with anybody below decks? The thing is on the level?" Then finding further elucidation necessary, he added, "No belong cheat!" Tsang Foo shook his head positively. "No belong cheat, all belong ploper.
A Chinaman, Tsang San-Fat, petitioned the Colonial Secretary at Hong Kong in regard to the custody of his little daughter, whom, "under stress of poverty," he had given away to a man named Leung A-Tsit, the October previous, the understanding being that the latter should find her a husband when she grew up, and should not send her away to other ports.
"My have got chance," announced Tsang emphatically, "you bet how fashion my talkee you, your money come back." Reynolds studied the brass knocker of a face, but found no clue to the riddle. "What you mean, Tsang?" he asked. "What do you know? For the Lord's sake don't fool with me about it!" "Me no fool," declared Tsang. "You le' me talkee number, him win big heap money." "But how do you know?"
And well he knows why; because if he should give way to the pressing invitation and go with Tsang, the moment he entered the house his host would call him a rude, unmannered peasant; for he must remember well that it becomes the one to courteously invite, and the other to respectfully refuse. This is the law of civilisation in China; and I had forgotten that law the second time.
You win, I no makee shoot; you lose, you promise bring back pistol, then go way. My can do what thing my wantchee, see?" Tsang Foo looked at him cunningly: "I win, you belong good boy? Stop whisky-soda, maybe?" Reynolds laughed in spite of himself: "Going to reform me, oh? All right, it's a bargain."
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