“Why don’t you speak, sir? Why are you not at work?” cried Nic.
“Little White Mary say, ‘Bung, go along see master.’”
“What! did my sister send you?”
The black nodded and laughed.
“Then just you go back, sir, directly, and take those dogs with you.”
“Little White Mary say come along,” persisted the black.
“I don’t care what any one said,” cried Nic. “Be off back.”
“Little White Mary say, ‘Gun no shoot—mumkull.’”
“Put down that spear,” cried Nic, who now pointed the gun at Bungarolo, who replied by striking an attitude, holding his spear in a graceful position as if about to hurl it at the boy’s head.
“No mumkull Bung?” cried the black.