11/21 I've a tip from Calcutta that--Never mind. Bar sells, when that fortch'n comes, my boy, the half's yours! Home we go, remember that!" The sampan drew away. Sweeping his arm violently, to threaten the coast of China and the whole range of his vision,-- "You're the one man," he roared, "that makes all this mess--worth a cowrie!" Heywood laughed, waved his helmet, and when at last he turned, sat looking downward with a queer smile. "What would a chap ever do without 'em? |