Then a thought occurred, and the boy lounged leisurely about to where the dogs were playing, with the blacks looking on; and watching his opportunity he crept up close to Bungarolo.
“Look here, Bung,” he said in a low voice.
The black turned round and stared.
“No, no: look at the dogs,” said Nic.
“What for mine look at dogs? White Nic going hit mine in back.”
“I’m not going to hit you,” said Nic hurriedly.
“Kick mine. This fellow pidney.”
“Nonsense! Look here. You know where Leather is.”
“No pidney—no pidney.”
“I say you do,” said Nic sternly. “Now look here. You go to him to-night and tell him that the white police fellows are coming to hunt him out. You pidney?”