"Over in the Chinese Sea!" shouted Jimmie McGraw from a table which
stood by an open window overlooking the brilliantly illuminated city.
"Do we go to the washee-washee land this time?"

"Only to the tub!" Jack Bosworth put in.

"What's the answer?" asked Frank Shaw, sitting down on the edge of the
table and rumpling Jimmie's red hair with both hands.

Jimmie broke away and, after bouncing a football off his tormentor's
back, perched himself on the back of a great easy chair.

"The answer?" Jack said, after peace had been in a measure restored,
"I thought everybody knew that the Chinks wash their clothes in the
Gulf of Tong King and hang them out to dry on the mountains of Kwang
Tung! Are we going there, Ned?" he added, turning to Ned Nestor, who
sat by a nearby window, looking out over the city. "Are we going to
the gulf of Tong King?"

Ned left his chair by the window and walked over to the table.

"I hardly know," he said, taking a roll of maps and drawings from his
breast pocket and spreading them out on the table. "When Captain Moore
arrives we shall know more about it."

"Who's Captain Moore?"

This from Jimmie, still sitting on the back of the chair, elbows on
knees, chin on palms.