"Budgeree, budgeree, you bin shootem shark? Him murry bad p-feller. Catchem plendy black p-feller; eaten. This p-feller live longa Point plendy years."
"The huge brute lashed the water into foam, and swam round and round in a circle."—See p. [271].
The group, which had been intently gazing at the carcass, turned round in a startled manner on bearing these guttural sounds. Immediately behind them was a cluster of aboriginals, five in number, who had stolen silently upon the scene.
"Hello, Cock-eye! that you?" cried Harry, as he surveyed the blacks. "Where you bin sittin' down, eh?"
"Cedar Crik. We bin come longa here get fis' for choppers."
"Oh, the timber-getters, hey! Well, you seem ter know this ole boss. You bin see 'im afore?"
"Plendy times. Bin often try catch 'im. He kill-ee mine sister. He too much lika dingo; no take bait."
"Well, you can git even with this joker, Cock-eye. He eat your people; now you chaps gobble 'im up."
The blacks are inordinately fond of shark's flesh, and—cannibal as this sea-tiger is—no question of sentiment may stand between these primitive men and a gorge.