“Can’t, Mass’ George,” he said sharply. “I so dreffle hungly.”
“Yes, so am I. What are you going to do?”
“Get down again. Injum no come now.”
I hesitated; and as I was heartily sick of waiting, and famished, I made myself believe that our enemies were not pursuing us, and descended quickly to look at my companion.
“What we do now, Mass’ George—kedge fis?”
“If we can,” I said; “but how?”
“Pomp show Mass’ George.”
He led on through the thick growth just outside the forest edge, and looking sharply from side to side, soon pitched upon a couple of long, thin, tapering canes, which he hacked off and trimmed neatly, so that they formed a pair of very decent fishing-rods, and he looked at me triumphantly.
“Dah!” he said.
“But where are the hooks and lines?”