Nothing was there to startle them—no sign of danger. The bag their companion had dropped lay upon the floor, but the flour-barrel was covered; and after a couple of them had exchanged a whisper, all stood with their nulla-nullas ready to strike, but no one attempted to move the cask head.
At last two who appeared to be the leaders extended a hand each, gazed in each other’s eyes, and at a signal gave the lid a thrust, and it fell off behind with a loud clatter, which made all bound out of the storehouse. But the last man looked back as his comrades were taking to flight, and uttered a few words loudly.
They were sufficient to arrest the flight and all stood in a stooping position, gazing wildly at the tub, which stood looking harmless enough, and after a little jabbering, they advanced once more, as if they all formed units of a large machine, so exactly were their steps taken together, till they reached and once more entered the open door of the store.
Then, as if strung up, ready to meet anything, they bounded into the place, when, as if worked by a spring, the horrible figure in the tub started upright like a monstrous jack-in-the-box.
The black fellows literally tumbled over one another in their hurry to escape from the terrible-looking object which, in their eyes—imbued as they were with superstitious notions—was a fearful demon of the most unsparing nature, and a minute later, they were back in the clump of trees and bushes, spreading news which made the whole mob of blacks take flight.
“Baal come teal flour. Mine make black fellow frightenum,” said the jack-in-the-box, leaping lightly out, and then rolling the empty cask aside, he replaced it by the flour-tub.
Then, going round to the back, application was made to a bucket of water, from which a cooliman or native bark bowl was filled, and in a few moments Shanter’s good-humoured, clean, black countenance was drying in the sun. For his scheme to defeat the flour-thieves had been very successful, and that evening he related it proudly to the boys.
“You did that?” said Norman.
“Yohi. All yan. Baal black fellow now.”
“What?” cried the captain, when Norman called him aside, and told him. “I don’t like that, my boy.”