“Why, of course you can.”
“Yes, but as soon as it’s done, the poor brute will kick it off. Now then, how about tying him?”
“Rush him,” said Dyke laconically. “Come along, Jack, and help.”
But the Kaffir shook his head rapidly.
“Why, hullo! You won’t back out, Jack?”
“No. Him kick, bite: no good.”
“Never you mind that,” cried Dyke. “You rush in with us, and hold his head, while we take his legs and wings. Do you understand?”
“No,” said the Kaffir, shaking his head. “Killum—killum!” and he made a gesture as if striking with a club.
“Not going to kill,” cried Dyke. “You rush in and hold the head. Do you understand?”
“No,” said the Kaffir.