Comstock Lode (Nev.) -- Fiction; Miners -- Fiction; Virginia City (Nev.) -- Fiction
While the spell of Barney's words was still upon the Club, Yap Sing
softly opened the door and announced that the evening luncheon was
ready. The heathen had inaugurated these luncheons on the first day of
his coming. They were at once accepted and had become a regular thing.
Seeing that they were received approvingly, Yap had exhausted every
device to make them a marked feature of the Club.
On this occasion the table was fully set, but there was no food on the
table. Beside each plate stood a glass of water and a dish of salt. When
the company was seated, Yap went to the cooking range, took out and set
upon the table an immense platter which was piled high with huge baked
potatoes, after which, with a face utterly destitute of expression, he
went to his bench in the corner of the room and sat down.
Wright, who was nearest him, said: "What is the matter, Yap? Are you
sick?"
"Nothing matter; me no sickie," said Yap.
"But why do you not bring on the supper?" asked Wright.
"No catchie any more," was the answer.
"What! Just potatoes straight, Yap? What is the matter?" said Wright.
"I no sabbie what's the matter," said the sullen Oriental. "You livie
belly cheapie now. Potato belly good. Blenty potato, blenty saltie,
blenty cold water; no makie you sickie; I dink belly good."
The Club took in the situation with great hilarity; the cause of Yap
Sing's frugality was briefly explained to the guests; each seized a
potato and commenced their meal.
At length Carlin asked Yap Sing if he could not furnish a little butter
with the salt. Yap shook his head resolutely, and said:
"No catchie. Blutter five bittie [sixty-two and a half cents] one pound.
No buy blutter for five bittie to putee on potato; too muchie money
allee time pay out for hashie."
Then Ashley asked for a pickle, but Yap Sing was firm. Said he: "Pickle
slix bittie one bottle; no can standee."
A great many other things were banteringly asked for, from cold tongue
and horse-radish to blackberry jam; but the imperturbable face of the
Mongolian never relaxed and his ears remained deaf to all entreaties.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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