“Hullo!” cried Dan. “Pigs—pig—arn’t likely, is it, as that little chap has took a fancy to it and sneaked it?”
“No,” cried Mark indignantly. “The little fellow’s as honest as the day.”
“Yes, sir,” said Buck dreamily, “but blacks is blacks, and whites is whites, and temptation sore long time he bore, till at last he may have given way.”
“Oh, bosh!” cried Dean.
“No, sir,” said Buck; “don’t you say that. I’ve see’d that often, that little bow and arrow and spear chap looking longingly at that gun and kinder sorter was hupping of it as if it was a hidol as he’d give anything to grab.”
“I don’t believe he would,” cried Mark. “If either of those two blacks would take anything, it would be far more likely to be Mak.”
“Yes,” said Dean, “but I wouldn’t believe it of him. Why, we know for a fact that these blacks, who are something of the same breed, are awful thieves. But no; poor old. Mak is a very brave fellow, and now that he’s beginning to talk a bit more English I’m sure he wouldn’t rob us of a thing.”
“Well, I don’t know, Mr Dean, sir,” put in Dan. “I wouldn’t take upon me to say as he’d pinch a rifle, but it arn’t safe to leave him anywhere near cold bones.”
“Oh, food,” said Mark; “that’s nothing for a savage. But you have never known him dishonest over that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say dishonest, sir,” said Dan, “but if you left a bit of one of them little stag things that we shoot and have after dinner cold for supper, he’d go and look for it again hung up in that pantry. It takes a lot of looking for; and then you don’t find it, do you, mate?”