“He had such a dinner,” said Tim. “Aunt feeds him so.”
“That, I’m sure, I do not, my dear,” said Aunt Georgie, shortly.
“Well, aunt, he always goes and lies down to sleep after you’ve given him anything,” said Rifle.
“And that’s what he has gone to do now,” added Norman. “He’ll come out of the woods somewhere soon. But I say, father, shan’t we have time to fish and shoot?”
“Plenty, and ride too, boys. But there, we’ve done a good day’s work, and now I suppose we shall have to do a little sentry business. The blacks are evidently very, very scarce in the country, not a sign of one in all these many days’ journey. But it would be wise to keep to a little vigilance, though I doubt whether they will trouble us much here.—Jack,” he continued, rising, “we’ll take the guns and have a walk round, to look at the cattle before going to roost for the night, while the girls get the place clear.—Coming, any of you boys?”
They all three sprang up eagerly.
“That’s right. Come along. Hallo!” he added, “here comes Tam o’ Shanter.”
For at that moment the black darted out from among the trees, and ran across the intervening space to where they were, carrying his nulla-nulla and boomerang in one hand, his spear at the trail in the other.
He had evidently been running fast, and was out of breath as he came up to cry in a low, hoarse voice:
“Now then all along—come quick, black fellow metancoly, come along mumkull white.”