“Baal go see. Marmi come back tickum full spear and go bong.”
“Nonsense! the black fellows are gone.”
“Black fellow all along. Come plenty soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Mine know,” said the black, quietly; and they waited again for quite an hour, fancying every rustle they heard was the creeping up of a stealthy enemy.
Then, all at once, there was a light, narrow, upright mark, as it seemed, on the kitchen wall. This grew plainer, and soon they were looking on each other’s dimly-seen faces; and about ten minutes later Norman went to the chimney corner, took hold of the shovel there, and scraped together a quantity of the fine, grey wood ashes which lay on the great hearthstone about the cask which supported the chest in the chimney, to sprinkle them about in the middle of the kitchen.
The boys looked on, and Tim shuddered, but directly after uttered a sigh of relief, just as a hideous, chuckling laugh came apparently from the ridge of the house.
“Quick!” cried Norman, dropping the fire-shovel with a clatter, and seizing his gun; “they’re on the roof.”
“Baal shoot,” cried Shanter, showing his teeth. “Dat laughum jackass,” and he imitated the great, grotesque kingfisher’s call so faithfully that the bird answered. “Say piggi jump up:” his interpretation of the curious bird’s cry; and very soon after piggi, otherwise the sun, showed his rim over the trees at the edge of the eastern plain. For it was morning, and Rifle shuddered as he went to the window slit to gaze out on the horrors of the night’s work.