A voice from a bunk had commenced to sing monotonously.
"Peyala peah," it sang, weird above the murmured accompaniment of the other dreaming smokers and the wash-wash of the tide—"To myn-na-peah-Phir Kysee ko kyah …"
"He is speaking from an opium-trance," said Stuart softly. "A native song: 'If a cup of wine is drunk, and I have drunk it, what of that?'"
The Buddhist Formula
" Again there was a weird interruption. A Chinaman lying in one of the bunks began to chant in a monotonous far-away voice:
"Chong-liou-chouayOm mani padme hum."
"The Buddhist formula," whispered Stuart. "He is a real smoker." '
The Voice Moaning
'A moaning voice from one of the bunks came.
"Cheal kegur-men, mas ka dheer!"
"A native adage," whispered Stuart. "He is dreaming. 'There is always meat in a kite's nest.'"
"Eh bien! very true—and I think the kite is at home!" '
The Golden Scorpion
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