“Hold still, you dog!” roared the captain. “I have you tight.—Here, Jack, come and help to hold him.”
“Baal baal mumkull mine,” cried the black, piteously. “Give in then, you scoundrel. Take hold of his hair, Jack. I have him by his loin-cloth.”
It was no question of giving in, for the black made no further struggle, but stood up writhing and twisting up his right shoulder, and rubbing it with the back of his left hand passed behind him.
“Don’t hit him again, father,” cried Norman, quickly.
“Silence, sir!—Now you—you black fellow!”
“Baal black fellow,” shouted Shanter, indignantly; “baal black fellow.”
“How dare you come stealing here in the dark and meddling with my horses?” roared the captain.
“Baal steal a horse fellow, Marmi,” cried the black, indignantly. “Horse fellow all along all lot.”
“Sneaking there in the darkness, to ride my poor horses to death.”
“Marmi no let Shanter ride when piggi jump up.”