“In the house,” said Norman. “Why?”
“Black fellow metancoly all plenty. Come mumkull.”
At that moment Mrs Bedford appeared at the door, and stepped out, but stopped as Shanter uttered a fierce yell and gesticulated, imitating the throwing of a spear and battering of some one’s head.
“Baal white Mary come along,” he cried, running to the captain. “Marmi say go along.”
“Run and tell your mother and the rest to keep in the house,” said the captain sharply to Rifle, and the black nodded in satisfaction; but he grew furious again, and seized the captain’s arm as he made a movement toward the patch of scrub and trees which had concealed the blacks, when the raid was made upon the flour.
“Baal go along,” he cried. “Hah!”
He threw himself into an attitude as if about to hurl a spear, for just then, a couple of hundred yards away, a black figure was seen to dart from behind a solitary patch of bushes to run to the bigger one in front. As he reached the broader shelter another followed him, and another, and another, Shanter counting them as they ran.
“Kimmeroi—bulla-bulla, kimmeroi-bulla, bulla—bulla, bulla, kimmeroi.”
“Five,” said Norman, excitedly.
“Yohi,” cried the black, nodding. “Marmi baal go along?”