But it soon became evident that Wing did not mean to break down that nail, for after a certain amount of scraping and polishing it was carefully covered with its thimble-like sheath, before the index-finger on his left hand was uncovered to go through the same process as its fellow.
As Stan watched he became aware of the fact that the left middle finger-nail had met with a mishap, having in all probability been broken right down, and was now being nursed up again to an aristocratic height.
All at once the man raised his eyes as if to see how his young master was getting on, and started as he saw that he was being watched.
“Are we likely to see any pirates up the river here?” said Stan quietly.
The man shook his head.
“Wing no tell,” he said gravely as he began to cover up his much-petted nails. “Plaps many bad man—plaps not none ’tall. Plenty pilate evely-wheah. Plenty bad soljee. Wing hope nevah see none no mo’. Velly glad leave boat and begin walk back. Plenty pilate on livah; plenty bad soljee way flom livah.”
“Then the discharged soldiers are worse than the pirates, Wing?” said Stan, smiling.
“Not laugh at,” said the man solemnly. “Allee dleadful bad man. Killee people and takee evely-thing away. Lun fass?”
“What do you mean—can I run fast?”
“Yes; lun velly fass?”