“Come with us,” I whispered, and he bent his head in the dark; but my words seemed to have no effect upon him, one idea seeming to be all that he could retain, for he hurried me on, grasping my arm tightly, and then loosed it and went on in front.
Jimmy took his place, gripping my arm in turn, and, whispering, showed his power of observation by saying:
“Much good him. No black fellow. Talk like Mass Joe some time. Jimmy tink um Mass Joe fader got dust in head. Don’t know know.”
“Oh no! impossible, Jimmy,” I whispered back with emotion. “It cannot be my father.”
“No fader? All um white fellow got mud mud in head. Can’t see, can’t know know. No Mass Joe fader?”
“No, I am sure it is not.”
“Then um white fellow. No black fellow. Tupid tupid. Don’t know at all. No find wallaby in hole. No find honey. No kedge fis. Tupid white fellow all a same, mud in um head.”
“He seems strange in his head,” I said.
“Yes. Iss mad mad. No wash um head clean. Can’t tink straight up an down ums like Jimmy.”
“But he is saving us,” I said. “Taking us to our friends.”