“Ho! mind a knife—mind a knife,” said the black; and he approached warily.
“He thought you were going to kill and cook him, aunt,” said the boy, who was in high glee at the lady’s disgust.
“I thought as much,” cried Aunt Georgie; “then the wretch is a cannibal, or he would never have had such nasty ideas.—Ob, Edward, what were you thinking about to bring us into such a country!”
“Bio white Mary gib damper?” asked the black insinuatingly.
“Not a bit,” said Aunt Georgie, making a menacing chop with the knife, which made the black leap back into a picturesque attitude, with his rough spear poised as if he were about to hurl it.
“Quick, Edward!—John!” cried Aunt Georgie, sheltering her face with her arms. “Shoot the wretch; he’s going to spear me.”
“Nonsense! Cut him some bread and let him go. You threatened him first with the knife.”
The whole party were roaring with laughter now at the puzzled faces of Aunt Georgina and the black, who now lowered his spear.
“Big white Mary want to kill Shanter?” he said to Rifle.
“No; what nonsense!” cried Aunt Georgie indignantly; “but I will not cut him a bit if he dares to call me big white Mary. Such impudence!”