“Don’t know yet,” said Uncle Jack. “What has he brought in his bag?”
“Some kind of fruit,” said Rifle, who had joined his aunt in the inspection of the contents of the bag, as she thrust in her hand, and snatched it away again with a cry of disgust.
“Good eat; good eat. Roastum fire,” said the black indignantly, and pouncing upon a couple of large, fat, white objects which the lady had dropped, he ran with them to the fire, and placed them close to the embers, afterwards going through a pantomime of watching them, but with gesticulations indicative of delight.
“Why, they’re big fat grubs,” cried Norman.
“Of course,” said the captain. “I have heard that they eat them. And these other things?”
He turned over the two dead animals.
“Good eat,” cried the black; and he rubbed the front of his person, and grinned as broadly as nature would allow him to spread his extensive mouth. Then, turning to Aunt Georgie, “Big white Mary gib soff damper?”
The lady snorted loudly, and looked as if she would never give him another piece; but she drew her knife, and cut off a goodly-sized piece of a loaf, and held it out once more on the point of the knife.
Shanter took the bread without hesitation.
“No tick a knife in um,” he cried laughing. “Shanter no ’fraid.”