“Well, we will not argue,” said the captain, lowering himself down. “There’s your mark, German; make straight for that.”
“No,” shouted a voice; and all turned with a look of wonder to Shanter, who had evidently been listening intently, and who was now in a great state of excitement, gesticulating and flourishing his nulla-nulla wildly.
“What do you say?” cried the captain, frowning.
“No go ’long,” cried Shanter, pointing across the plain. “No—no. Horse fellow—bull-cow fellow, all go puff-puff.”
And he went down on all fours, with his eyes wide and staring, mouth open, and tongue lolling out, breathing hoarsely and heavily, snuffling about the while at the ground. Then he threw up his head, and whinnied like a horse in trouble, snuffled about again, and lowed like an ox, and finally seemed to grow weaker and weaker till he fell over on his side, struggled up again, fell on his side, stretched out his head and legs, and finally gave a wonderful imitation of a horse or ox dying.
“All go bong (dead),” he cried. “No go along. No water drink. Big fellow horse, can’t pull along.”
He pointed again and again, out over the plain, and shook his head violently.
“White fellow come ’long,” he continued, as he leaped up, shouldered his spear, and started, pointing before him to the tree-spread track nearer the river. “Bull-cow fellow eat.”
He made believe to snatch a mouthful of grass, and went on munching it as he walked slowly on as if pulling a load.
“Much water, drinkum, drunkum,” he continued, pointing in the direction of the river.