“Zo! Den tunder! what vor you no gom und vetch me und mine old vomans? Die frau gom und vrighten avay das vevers. She is vonterful old vomans. She make you like to be ill.”
“I was all alone, and couldn’t leave him,” said Dyke. “I was afraid he would die if I did.”
“Ja, zo. You vas quite right, mein young vrient Van Dyke. You are a goot poy, unt I loaf you. Zhake mein hant.”
The process was gone through, Dyke shrinking a little for fear he would be kissed.
“Und zo die pirts do nod get on?” said Morgenstern after a pause, during which he sat smoking.
“No, in spite of all our care,” said Emson.
“Ach! vot ist das?” cried the old man, looking sharply round, as his hat was snatched off by the long-necked bird which had been inspecting it. “You vill gif dot pack to me, shdupit. Id ist nod goot do eat, und I am sure id vould not vid your shdupid liddle het.—Dank you, bube,” he continued, as Duke rescued and returned the hat. “Eh? you dink it goot. Vell, it vas a goot hat; bud you go avay und schvallow shdones, und make vedders for me to puy. Ach! dey are vonny pirts, Van Dyke. Und zo dey all go die?”
“We lost a great many through the Kaffir boy we had,” said Dyke, as they walked slowly back to the house.
“Zo? He did not give them do eat?”
“We saw that the birds had enough to eat,” said Dyke; “but he used to knock their heads with a stone.”