"Sure me throat is sore wid it, sorr," said Barney, "and me lips are cracked wid whistling for Pat, bad cess to 'm."
"The dog has gone too, eh? I reckon Samba's a thief like the rest of 'em."
"Begging yer pardon, sorr, it takes two to make a thief, one to steal, the other to be stolen. Pat would never agree to be stolen, sorr; besides, he would never be such an ungrateful spalpeen uv a dog, not to speak uv the bad taste of it, as to desert his ould master for a nigger bhoy."
"Well, what's become of them, then? Nando, where's Samba?"
"Me no can tell, sah. Me fink crocodile eat him, sah. Little tiny black boy go walk all alone alone night time. Yah! crocodile come 'long, fink black boy make plenty good chop. Soosh! little black boy in ribber, crocodile eat him all up, sah. What for black boy go walk alone? One time all right, Nando eat manioc[[1]]; nudder time all wrong, crocodile eat Samba."
Nando shook his head sententiously; Samba's exploit on the night of the alarm was evidently still rankling.
"That's not it at all," said Barney. "Pat would niver permit any crocodile, wid all his blarney, to eat him; and if a crocodile ate Samba, sure Pat would have been the first to come and tell us."
"No, it's your Irish that has frightened the boy," said Jack gravely. "I've been trying to teach him a few words of English; but I've noticed once or twice, after I've done with him, that he pronounces the words as if he'd learnt them in Ireland. No decent black boy could stand that, you know, Barney."
"Faith, 'tis Irishmen that speak the best English," returned Barney; "did I not hear them wid me very own ears in the house uv Parlimint?"
"Well, Jack, we must go on," said Mr. Martindale. "I was afraid the boy would be a botheration."