'Take me watermelon,' he gasped,'but spare me life.'
'Stuff an' nonsense,' said Bill. 'We don't want your life. What we want is some information. Have you seen a singed possum about this morning?'
'Singed possums, sir, yes sir, certainly sir,' gasped the Bandicoot, trembling violently.
'What!' exclaimed Bill, 'do yer mean to say you have seen a singed possum?'
'Singed possums, sir, yes sir,' gulped the Bandicoot. 'Very plentiful, sir, this time of the year, sir, owing to the bush fires, sir.'
'Rubbish,' roared Bill. 'I don't believe he's seen a singed possum at all.'
'No, sir,' quavered the Bandicoot. 'Certainly not, sir. Wouldn't think of seeing singed possums if there was any objection, sir.'
'You're a poltroon,' shouted Bill. 'You're a slaverin', quaverin', melon-carryin' nincompoop. There's no more chance of getting information out of you than out of a terrified Turnip.'