"Give me them scissors, Dewey, or it'll be the worse for you!"
exclaimed the tyrant furiously.
Dewey regarded him with a look of unmistakable contempt.
There was a murmur among the miners, who were eager for the
amusement which the Chinaman's terror and ineffectual struggles
would afford them.
"Give him the scissors, Dewey!" said half a dozen.
"Boys," said Dewey, making no motion to obey them, "do you know what
you are about to do? Why should you interfere with this poor,
unoffending Chinaman? Has he wronged any one of you?"
"No, but that ain't the point," said a Kentuckian. "We only want to
play a joke on him. It won't do him no harm to cut his hair."
"Of course not," chimed in several of the miners.
"Do you hear that, Dick Dewey?" demanded O'Reilly impatiently. "Do
you hear what the boys say? Give me them scissors."
"Boys, you don't understand the effects of what you would do," said
Dewey, taking no notice of O'Reilly, much to that worthy's
indignation. "If Ki Sing has his queue cut off, he can never go back
to China."
"Is that the law, squire?" asked a loose-jointed Yankee.
"Yes, it is. You may rely on my word. Ki Sing, if you cut off your
queue, can you go back to China?"
"No go back-stay in Melica allee time.
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