Duncan shook his head as he sat on a block of wood near to him, and just where he could get a good look of his sable countenance.
"He say," Carrambo interpreted, "no goo-goo, no stoly."
But Duncan was firm. Savages are very like children in some of their ways, and Duncan knew it. He shifted the bottle farther back therefore.
"No story, no goo-goo. Tell him that, Carrambo."
The fat king grinned, slapped one of his wives, grinned again, and began to talk.
As translated by the Somali, the story ran somewhat as follows:--
"I king now. My fadder he king once. My fadder fadder he king befo'; my fadder fadder fadder he king too. 'Twas when fadder fadder fadder king. De boys all in de bush one day, make much fine spolt. Shoot de monkey fo' eat; shoot de lion and de spot-cat (leopard) all wid bow and arrow. Some dey kill wid spear.
"Plesantly, all as soon as nuffin, plenty much noise and shout in de bush. Den fire-sticks flash and plenty thunder, and one, two, tlee, nine, ten (the king was counting on his fingers and could go no further) ob my fadder's fadder's fadder's poor people lie down and bleed red, and die. But dis not all. De king's people fight, and many mo' all kill and bleeding, and so de king make peace.
"De white men dey take many wives away, den take de country, and de king he king no mo'. All de same he not conquer. Plaps he take revenge one day. You see plenty soon.
"Well, de white men wid de thunder-sticks, they build big big house--big, big, stlong, stlong, all de same as you young gemmans lib in now. So dey settle down and lib heah.