“Stoopid? ’Nough to make any man feel stoopid. I was ’most stuffocated.”
“So was I.”
“Yes, but you hadn’t got that big, ‘my pakeha’ chap sitting on you all the time.”
“No, Jem, I hadn’t,” said Don, laughing.
“Well, I had, and he weighs ’bout as much as a sugar-hogshead at home, and that arn’t light.”
“But it was to hide us, Jem.”
“Hide us, indeed! Bother me if it didn’t seem as if they was all hens wanting to sit on one egg, and that egg was me. I know I shall never get right again.”
“Oh yes, you will,” laughed Don.
“Ah, it’s all werry well for you to laugh, Mas’ Don; but if my ribs hadn’t been made o’ the best o’ bone, they’d ha’ cracked like carrots, and where should I ha’ been then?”
“Hurt, mate?” said Tomati, coming up and laughing at Jem, who was rubbing himself angrily.