"It was a white man's fire, Mandy."
CHAPTER IX.
THE WHITE MAN.
The Baker's first and most natural impulse was to curse Smith for waking him up in the middle of the night, and his second was, that now, and at last, his chum had gone definitely off his head. He groaned as he sat up and prepared to soothe the man, and combat his wild delusion. But Smith was by no means crazy or delirious. Indeed, he was keen enough to perceive from the very tone of Mandeville's voice what was in his mind.
"I'm not crazy, Baker," he said earnestly, as he raked the ashes of their own fire together. "I'm quite sane, and what I say is right."
"That white men lighted this fire?" said the Baker. "And 'ow the deuce did you find that out in pitch dark?"
Smith laughed, a far more pleasant laugh than usual.
"Why, man alive, I saw it last night, and I didn't see it. It was written large, and I missed it. How, I can't tell, for it's plain enough. It was far too large a fire for any black-fellow to light. Haven't you heard me often enough tell you to light a black-fellow's fire, three sticks and two hot coals? Well, and this fire was big enough to roast a sheep whole. I tell you white men did it."
But the Baker was not so easily convinced. His mind was acute.
"And 'ow do you know as black-fellows always does as you say? Australia's big enough for a 'undred ways of fire lightin'?"