"Kadok," she spoke first. "How many miles is it to my mother?"
"It is many hours," answered Kadok. "We must go fast."
"I will go now," she said, getting up. "I can walk."
"Why you hurry?" asked Kadok, surprised.
"I want my mother," she answered. "She will be afraid for me. My father has gone away to find gold and she will be frightened for me." She spoke like a little old woman and the black boy's eyes shone. He saw that he had the way to manage her without frightening her with the dangers he dreaded.
"We must go fast so little Missa's mother not get sick without her," he said, and the two started on again.
By noon, slow as the little steps were, they had covered considerable ground, and they sat down near a tiny water-hole to eat and rest.
"Missa wash feet and rest while I make eat," said Kadok, and Jean bathed her bruised feet, wrapping them in wet leaves, which Kadok told her would take out the pain. "Little Missa sit very still while I find eat," he said. "I not go away." She was terribly frightened when he disappeared between the trees, but in a few minutes she heard the sound of chopping near by, and in a few moments more, Kadok returned carrying a dead bandicoot.
"Me chop him out of hole in foot of tree," he said, grinning broadly. "Him make fine eat."
He quickly made a fire, and cutting up the meat in pieces, put some of them on sharpened twigs, and held them over the fire to roast.