“If I had been on the look-out, I could not have hit it,” I said. “But I say, Pomp,” I continued, looking round as we came upon a high sandy bluff through which the river had cut its way, and whose dry, sun-bathed sides offered a pleasant resting-place, “aren’t you tired?”
“No,” said the boy, thoughtfully, “Pomp not bit tired, only one leg.”
“Well, are you hungry then?”
“Dreffle, Mass’ George. You like emp de walletum now?”
“Yes, we’ll sit down and have a good meal, and then we shall have to make haste back.”
“Top lil bit, Mass’ George,” said the boy, cautiously.
“Oh no, there are no pins and forns there to ’tick in us,” I said.
“No, Mass’ George, but dat sort o’ place for rattle tailum ’nake. I go look fust.”
I felt a shudder run through me at the mention of the noxious creature, and brought the gun to bear as we advanced.
“No; no shoot,” whispered the boy. “Big ’tick bess for ’nake.”