un off tlack; you swingee
lante'n, yellee 'All aboa'd!' you say, 'Jim Kli! what keepee Numbeh
Eight?' You sellee ticket, knockee down change. No good, lailway man!
Me savvy you, all light."

"Ye cross iv a limon peel and a case iv jandhers!" cried Mr. Quilty in
wrath at these aspersions on an honourable calling, "I'm a notion to
get down an' slug the head off iv yez! Faix, ut's no murder to kill a
Chinaman, but a bright jewel in me starry crown, ye long-nailed,
rat-eatin', harrse-haired, pipe-hittin' slave iv th' black pill! I'll
make yez think I'm a Hip Sing Tong or a runaway freight on th' big
hill. I'll slaughter yez, mind, if I get off. Do yez know where yez
will go whin yez die at my hands?"

"Me go to heaven," said Feng, with comfortable conviction.

"Th' ---- ye say!" ejaculated Mr. Quilty, in shocked amazement. "I
think I see ye there!"

"You no see me," said Feng. "No Ilish lailway man stop in heaven. Me
catchee heaven all light. Missionally say so."

"Is ut mish-naries they send to waste time on the loikes iv yez?"
snorted Mr. Quilty. "Hivin! Fine comp'ny ye'd be f'r the holy men and
blessid saints an' martyrs an' pure, snow-white angels! Why, ye
idolatrous, stick-burnin', kow-towin', joss-worshippin' pagan son iv a
mat-sailed junk and a chopstick, they'd slam the pearly gates forninst
yer face and stick their holy fingers to their blessid noses at yez.
Hivin! Ye'll never smell ut, nor scuffle yer filthy shoes on th'
goolden streets. Purgathry! Faix, yer ticket reads straight through,
wid no stop-off priv'leges whatever. Th' cindher pit f'r yours! Be th'
Rock iv Cashel, I'll l'arn yez to insult th' heav'nly throng!"

So saying, he dropped ungracefully from his horse and made a rush for
Feng, who retreated, slammed the screen door, and, from inside,
threatened the storming party with a formidable butcher knife.

"Whurroo!" shouted Mr. Quilty, dancing on the steps. "Come out, ye
yelly plague, knife and all, an' l'ave me knock the stuffin' out iv
yez! Annyways, I'll tell ye what ye are. Ye're a----"

But Casey, fearful of Mr. Quilty's descriptive powers, saw fit to
interrupt.

"Hello! What's all the row? That you, Corney?"

"Yer owner has saved yer life," Mr. Quilty informed Feng. "Sure ut's
me, Casey. I'm after l'arnin' this Oriental curse iv the wurruld how to
talk to his betters." He mounted the steps, peering suspiciously at the
occupants of the veranda. "Who's these?" he demanded. "I can't see in