Part 22 (1/2)
”Ho'lah!” he said.
”Ho'lah!” faintly responded Jo.
Quang Po wasted no more words, but set to work. He had not much to dig with, save his tough, yellow hands and a stick, but after nearly an hour's exertion, he released Jo.
”You' bones bloke?” asked Quang anxiously.
”No,” responded Jo, wincing. ”My arm hurts, but I guess it's only a sprain.”
”Me cally fish to lady,” explained Quang. ”Me go closs hill to lady's house. Hear you holler.”
Jo tried to stand, but found himself dizzy and faint, and Quang Po, leaving his baskets, went home with the lad.
Next day, Quang Po, going his rounds, was carrying his fish-baskets past Jo's house. Jo, sitting on the steps, his arm in a bandage, made a sign to Quang to stop.
”My mother wants to buy some fish of you,” Jo said.
The fish were bought, and Quang was thanked by Jo's mother for helping her boy. Quang went back to his baskets again, but Jo followed.
”Quang Po,” he said, choking a little, ”you very good to me.”
Quang Po smiled.
”Quang,” confessed Jo, ”I helped the other boys cut the sinkers from your big net, once.”
Quang nodded.
”Me sabe,” (understand) he answered, ”me sabe long time ago.”
”I helped the other boys cut the line that held up your flounders,”
faltered Jo. ”I helped tip over the fish-frame.”
Quang Po nodded.
”Me t'ink so,” he said.
”What for you good to me?” demanded Jo.
”Me Clistian,” responded Quang Po with gravity, as if that one word explained everything. ”Clistian must do lite.”
Jo looked at him. Quang lifted his heavy baskets on his pole.
”Goo' by,” he said.
”Say--Quang Po,” burst out Jo, ”I'm sorry! I won't bother you any more! I won't let the other boys do it, either! I can stop it.”
Quang Po smiled.
”Me glad you solly,” he said. ”We be good flends, now.” And he trotted away, the heavy baskets creaking.