“I say, Buck, are there so many blacks about here, then?”
“Sometimes, sir.”
“And do they go fishing?”
“No, sir; they may do, but I don’t know as I ever saw a black go fishing. You’ve been to ’Stralia, Dan; do the black fellows out there fish much?”
“Much?” said Dan, showing his white teeth. “Yes, and hunt and knock the big kangaroos over with their nulla-nullas and boomerangs. Wittles are precious scarce there, and they have had a hard time of it to get enough grub, and I suppose that’s why they pick holes in the softy wood trees to get the big fat grubs out of them.”
“Ugh! Horrid!” said Dean.
“No, sir,” said Dean, smiling. “It don’t sound nice, but I know a little about cooking, and when them ’Stralian grubs are nicely cooked over the fire they are not to be sneezed at. There’s another thing too that’s very nice eating, baked or roasted, and that’s a locus’, and I shouldn’t wonder if you could find them out here, for they come in clouds up in the north and eat everything they find.”
“Well, don’t cook any for us, Dan,” said Mark.
“There’s no need, sir, with such a good supply of venison, as you gents call it, and game birds.”
“But I should like you to try your hand with the frying-pan and some fish.”