“Lazy scoundrel!” cried Uncle Jack. “Well, if he doesn’t work he can’t be fed.”
“Shall I go and tell the captain?”
“No; he has plenty of worries on his mind. Let’s do without the sable rascal. We never counted upon having his help.”
So the work went on without the black, and the captain did not miss him; while the ladies, finding a plentiful supply of wood and water, were loud in Shanter’s praises.
Just before dark he walked back into camp with a bark bag hanging from his spear, and a pleasant grin upon his face.
“Baal black fellow,” he cried.
“There now,” said Aunt Georgie, who was busy preparing the evening meal, helped by Mrs Bedford; “there it is again. I was doubtful before.”
“Baal black fellow,” said Shanter once more.
“Yes, there. You see how it is, Marian; these people must be descendants of the old Philistines, all degenerate and turned black.”
“Nonsense!” said Uncle Jack, and he looked very sternly at the black.