The messenger nodded. "Name allee same Larry Lussell."
"Gracious me!" ejaculated Ben. "Gilbert, what can this mean? I thought Larry sailed away on that warship."
"So did I. But she may be back in port."
"Sailor man hurt." The Chinaman pointed to his side. "Sick—he shot—say you clome tonight."
"Sick? shot?" repeated Ben, and a cold chill went down his backbone. "That is the worst yet. Where is he?"
"Big walk down by the sea. Chung Wow show. But must pay—Chung Wow poor people."
"Oh, I'll pay you," answered Ben, hurriedly. "Gilbert, do you think I can get away?"
"Sailor man say bloth clome," put in the messenger.
"Something is wrong, that is certain," came from Gilbert. He eyed the Chinaman closely. "There is no mistake about this?"
At this Chung Wow shrugged his lean shoulders and looked blank.
"No see mistakee. See sailor mans."
"I guess he is all right," put in Ben. "Something has happened to poor Larry. I wonder if I can get away at once?"
