“That you don’t, sir,” she cried. “Such impudence! You take that bread properly, or not a bit do you have.”
As she spoke she shook the knife at him, and the black again leaped back, looked serious, and then scratched his head as if for a fresh thought.
The idea came as Aunt Georgie stretched out the bread again.
“Now, sir,” she cried, “come and take it this instant.”
The black hesitated, then, slowly lowering the spear, he brought the point down to the bread and made a sudden poke at it; but the fire-hardened point glanced off the crust, and two more attempts failed.
“No,” said Aunt Georgie; “you don’t have it like that, sir. I could turn the crumb round and let you get it, but you shall take it properly in your hand. Now then, take it correctly.”
She made another menacing gesture, which caused the black to shrink; but he was evidently hungry, and returned to get the bread; so this time he advanced with lowered spear, and as he drew near he laid the weapon on the bread, and slowly advanced nearer and nearer, the spear passing over the bread till, as the black’s left hand touched the loaf, the point of the spear was within an inch of Aunt Georgie’s breast. But the old lady did not shrink. She stood her ground bravely, her eyes fixed on the black’s and her lips going all the time.
“Oh, you suspicious wretch!” she cried. “How dare you doubt me! Yes; you had better! Why, if you so much as scratched me with the point of your nasty stick, they would shoot you dead. There, take it.”
The captain felt startled, for just then she made a sharp gesture when the black was in the act of snatching the bread. But the alarm was needless; the savage’s idea was to protect himself, not to resist her, and as the quick movement she made caused the bread to drop from the point of the knife, he bobbed down, secured it almost as it touched the ground, caught it up, and darted back.
“Shanter got a damper,” he cried; and tearing off a piece, he thrust it into his mouth. “Hah, nice, good. Soff damper. No tick knifum in Shanter dis once.”