Ping-Pong crawled and toddled about the Sham-Poo, amusing herself with things she found or lying on her back blowing bubbles at the sky. She was very unexacting in her attitude toward life in general. Already she was beginning to develop an Oriental placidity remarkable to behold.
"You see how philosophically she takes it," Mark pointed out. "Employ your time profitably in contemplating all the wisdom of the East as embodied in Ping-Pong—and put a little more beef into that yulow-ing."
Alan merely shied a mat at his brother, and they both grinned.
And then, presently, Mark's policy was more or less justified. Something did happen. What happened was the Sien Kang River, with Changhow itself strung steaming along the water-front above a slowly moving swarm of every sort of boat.
"Well, here we are," Mark said breezily.
"Here we are where?" Alan queried.
"Somewhere definite. This is a big place. We can dig up some English-speaking person here, and get on a bit."
It took them some time to "get on" very far.
