“What’s the matter?” said Uncle Jack, who was chaining up the wheels of one of the wagons to insure its not being dragged away.
“The black will not work.”
“Send him to me.”
Tim ran back to Shanter.
“Here,” he cried; “Uncle Jack wants you.”
“Baal come along Uncle Jack,” said the black sharply. “Uncle Jack come along Shanter.”
“But I say: that won’t do,” cried Tim. “You must mind what’s said to you.”
“Shanter going get grub. You come along mine.”
“No; I’m going to work, and you have to help.”
Shanter got up and walked straight away in the other direction, and Tim went and told his uncle.