“Good ticky-ticky,” said the black, licking his fingers and smacking his lips. “Come ’long.”
“Yes, I’ll come,” cried the boy, and the next minute he was over the side and in the boat, where half-a-dozen more of the blacks were waiting and received him with a frantic shout of delight, flourishing their paddles, which they plunged into the smooth water of the lagoon as soon as Black Jack had dropped to his place; and away they went, with the latter standing up beside Carey.
As they were passing round the bows, Bostock’s head suddenly appeared over the side, and at a sign from the boy the blacks ceased rowing.
“Where away, lad?” said the old sailor.
“Ashore, hunting wallabies or something.”
“I say, young gentleman, is it safe to go alone with those chaps?”
“Oh, yes; there’s nothing to mind. Haven’t I been fishing with ’em lots of times?”
“Yes, but that was on the water, my lad,” said Bostock, shaking his head.
“Bob—Bob, come along; kedge wallaby—snakum—ticky-ticky.”
“Who’s to do the cooking if I do?” growled Bostock.