“I say,” he said coolly, “have I been asleep?”
“Asleep! yes,” I whispered hastily. “Here, come along; we are to get forward. How could you sleep?”
“Oh, I don’t know!” he said. “I only just closed my eyes. Why, here’s somebody else asleep!”
Sure enough Jimmy was curled up close to the rock, with his hands tucked under his arms, his waddy in one fist, a hatchet in the other.
Jack Penny was in so sour a temper at having been awakened from sleep, and in so rude a way, that he swung one of his long legs back, and then sent it forward.
“Don’t kick him!” I said hastily; but I was too late, for the black received the blow from Jack’s foot right in the ribs, and starting up with his teeth grinding together, he struck a tremendous blow with his waddy, fortunately at the rock, which sent forth such an echoing report through the gully that the doctor came hurriedly to our side.
“What is it?” he said in an anxious whisper.
“Big bunyip hit Jimmy rib; kick, bangum, bangum!” cried the black furiously. “Who kick black fellow? Bash um head um! Yah!”
He finished his rapidly uttered address by striking a warlike attitude.
“It’s all right now,” I whispered to the doctor. “Come along, Jimmy;” and taking the black’s arm I pushed him on before me, growling like an angry dog.