"Inside, in the lining," said he. "I wish it was a bit bigger. But it will scare them anyhow, if it comes to trouble."
The Baker, forgetting his woes and the danger he stood in between the lady and the savage, fairly laughed.
"I should think so, mate," he said. "Sometimes I think it would be a good thing to let 'em hear it, and see what it'll do."
But that meant the loss of a cartridge, and one out of about fifty between them might be wanted in a tight corner.
"You keep it dark till it's useful," said Smith, "and find out what you can about the canoes in the river. See how many there are, and keep your eyes skinned. For they may shove us out of this at any moment."
"Or shove us in if grub gets scarce," cried the Baker. "I wish I was h'out of it. If I was on the track with ten days' tucker, I'd be 'alf inclined to 'oof it back down the billabong, and make a big shy for New Find."
And then their conversation was cut into by Bill, who came demanding a smoke. The Baker, who, for a moment, thought he was the man he was most particularly in dread of, stepped aside. When he saw his mistake, he couldn't help watching the two men together.
For Smith was as tall as Bill, and very lithe. His beard was almost golden, and short and curly. In spite of his moleskin trousers, his broken boots and his ragged shirt, he looked a gentleman. And to see him give his pipe to a savage, who, ten times over, satisfied all the Baker's child-like notions of savages, was something strange, horrible, and yet irresistibly ridiculous. For Bill was broad, and as muscular as a young Hercules, and if he had been shaved both on his breast and back, as well as his head and face, he might, except for his feet, which were over large, and flat and misshapen, have stood as a model for the nude. But it was the possession of his beard and hair, and the skin which covered him, and his wild carriage, which made the contrast tremendous. If he had been black, it would have seemed natural enough. If he had spoken some unintelligible language, it would not have presented so many features of tragic and comic interest, irresistibly combined.
So when Bill remarked that he now wanted a pipe of his own because he liked tobacco so much, the Baker was all of a sudden taken with a hysterical fit of laughter, which he could not control. He fairly screamed and shouted, and at last lay down.
Smith, who had a notion of what had taken the man, was at first alarmed, lest Bill should understand. But he reckoned on his possessing keenness and a sense of humour which were both beyond him. And, like a flash, it came to his chum that it would be no bad plan to suggest that the Baker was not quite in his right senses.