“Baal gib mine big damper?” cried the black.
“No; only the whip,” said the captain, giving the thong a sharp crack, and then another and another in all directions near the black’s naked shoulders, with the result that at every crack Shanter winced and leaped about.
“Marmi Man gib mine damper.”
“I can’t,” said Norman.
“Marmi Rifle, Marmi Tim, gib mine damper.”
“No—no—no,” shouted the captain. “Now go and never come here again.”
The black gave another writhe, as if smarting from the pain of the blow he had received, and ended by snatching boomerang and club from his waistband, uttering a fiercely defiant yell as he clattered them together, leaped the fence and darted off straight across the paddock, shouting as he rushed on toward the horses, and sending them in panic to the end of the enclosure.
“The scoundrel!” shouted the captain; “those horse will cripple themselves on the posts and rails. No; they’re coming back again,” he cried, as he heard the little herd come galloping round. “Steady there—woho—boys! Steady, woho there—woho!” he continued; and the horses gradually ceased their headlong flight, and turned and trotted gently toward the familiar voice.
The captain was joined by the boys, who all went toward the horses, patting and caressing them for a few minutes before leaving the paddock and going back toward the house.
“Now,” said the captain; “who is to say that this black fellow will not come to-morrow night, or perhaps to-night, take out a rail or two, and drive off all our horses?”