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"Ching velly solly," said the Chinaman softly. "No gettee more watee till quite dalk." My head sank against the rock, and I hardly stirred the whole of that day. Ching pressed me to eat some of the remaining biscuits, but I could not touch them, only rest my burning head there, and try to think of what was to come.
Ching go out to-night get plenty blisket, plenty watee, plenty plentee oh, deah oh, deah!" "What is it?" I whispered. "Oh deah! Not drop watee left. You get up dlink allee watee?" "No; did you?" "No. Ching see. Pooh Tom Jeck knock over with arm." It was only too evident, for the water vessel had been laid upon its side, and the sand beneath was soaked.
"Allee going 'way?" "No," I replied, with my lips to his ear; "they are carrying up boards and pieces of the wreck and sails, and making themselves a shelter. They are going to stay." Ching drew his breath with a low hiss, and was silent for a few minutes. Then, quite cheerfully, he whispered "Velly bad job. Don'tee want bad wicked pilate here. Nevy mind: come, eat blisket, dlink watee.
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