The Dingo Boys | Page 4

sugar-planter, who was, in spite of his rough colonial aspect and his wild-looking home, thoroughly gentlemanly. "You will have the pick of the land, and can select as good a piece as you like. I shall look you up some day."
"Thank you," said the captain, coldly; "but I daresay I shall be many miles up the river."
"Oh, we think nothing of fifty or a hundred miles out here, sir," said the young squatter, merrily. "Your boys will not either, when you've been up yonder a month. Come and see me, lads, when you like. One's glad of a bit of company sometimes."
They parted and walked back, driving their new acquisitions, and were getting on very badly, from the disposition on the part of the bullocks to return to their old home, when the black already described suddenly made his appearance from where he had been squatting amongst some low-growing bushes; and as soon as he stepped out into the track with his long stick, which was supposed to be a spear, bullocks and horses moved on at once in the right direction, and perhaps a little too fast.
"The cattle don't like the blacks as a rule. They are afraid of the spears," said the doctor.
"Why?" asked Norman.
"The blacks spear them--hurl spears at the poor brutes."
"Black fellow," said the shiny, unclothed native sharply, "spear um bullockum."
"Why, he can speak English," said Rifle, sharply.
"Oh yes, he has hung about here for a long time now, and picked it up wonderfully.--You can talk English, can't you, Ashantee?"
The black showed his teeth to the gums.
"What's his name?" asked Artemus, otherwise Tim.
"Oh, that's only the name I gave him, because he is so black--Ashantee."
"Eh, you want Shanter?" cried the black sharply.
"No; but mind and drive those bullocks and horses down to Jennings', and the gentleman will give you sixpence."
"You give Shanter tickpence?" he cried eagerly, as he lowered his rough shock-head and peered in the captain's face.
"Yes, if you drive them carefully."
"Hoo!" shouted the black, leaping from the ground, and then bursting out with a strange noise something between a rapid repetition of the word wallah and the gobbling of a turkey-cock; and then seeing that the boys laughed he repeated the performance, waved his clumsy spear over his head, and made a dash at the bullocks, prodding them in the ribs, administering a poke or two to the horses, and sending them off at a gallop toward the port.
"No, no, no, stop him!" cried the captain; and the three boys rushed off after the black, who stopped for them to overtake him.
"What a matter--what a matter?" he said coolly, as they caught and secured him.
"Mind he don't come off black, Tim," cried Norman.
"Black? All black," cried the Australian. "White, all white. Not white many."
"That's not the way to drive cattle," cried the young doctor, as he came up with the captain.
"Not give tickpence drive bullockum?"
"Yes, if you are careful. Go slowly."
"Go slowly."
"No. Bullockum 'top eat grass. Never get along."
"You'll make them too hot," said Rifle.
"No, no," shouted the black; "no can get too hot. No clothes."
"Send the fellow about his business," said the captain; "we'll drive the cattle ourselves. Good lesson for you, boys.--Here you are, Shanter."
He took out a bright little silver coin, and held it out to the black, who made a snatch at it, but suddenly altered his mind.
"No, not done drive bullockum. Wait bit."
He started off after the cattle again, but evidently grasped what was meant, and moved steadily along with the three boys beside him, and he kept on turning his shiny, bearded, good-humoured face from one to the other, and displaying a perfect set of the whitest of teeth.
"Seems ruin, doesn't it?" said Tim, after they had gone steadily on for some time in silence--a silence only broken by a bellow from one of the bullocks.
"Hear um 'peak?" cried the black.
"What, the bullock?" said Rifle.
The black nodded.
"Say don't want to go along. Shanter make um go."
"No, no, don't hunt them."
"No," cried the black, volubly; "hunt wallaby--hunt ole man kangaroo."
He grinned, and holding his hands before him, began to leap along the track in a wonderfully clever imitation of that singular animal last named, with the result that the horses snorted, and the bullocks set up their tails, and increased their pace.
"Be quiet!" cried Norman, whose eyes ran tears with laughter. "Yes, you are right, Tim. He is a rum one."
"I meant it seems rum to be walking along here with a real black fellow, and only the other day at Harrow."
"Black fellow?" cried their companion. "Hi! black fellow."
He threw himself into an attitude that would have delighted a sculptor, holding back his head, raising his spear till it was horizontal, and then pretending to throw it; after which he handed it quickly to Norman, and snatched a short