April 15, 2013
Allee time I talk along white fella marster, he said. Me talk, 'That fella bushman he look 'm eye belong him. He savvee too much. S'pose musket he stop along you, that fella bushman he too much good friend along you. Allee time he look sharp eye belong him. S'pose musket he no stop along you, my word, that fella bushman he chop 'm off head belong you. He kai-kai you altogether. But the patience of the bushmen had exceeded that of the white men.
The weeks had gone by, and no overt acts had been attempted. The bushmen swarmed in the camp in increasing numbers, and they were always making presents of yams and taro, of pig and fowl, and of wild fruits doorphone and vegetables. Whenever the gold-hunters moved their camp, the bushmen volunteered to carry the luggage. And the white men waxed ever more careless. They grew weary prospecting, and at the same time carrying their rifles and the heavy cartridge-belts, and the practice began of leaving their weapons behind them in camp.
I tell 'm plenty fella white marster look sharp eye belong him. And plenty fella white marster make 'm big laugh along me, say Binu Charley allee same pickaninny my word, they speak along me allee same pickaninny. Came the morning when Binu Charley noticed that the women and children had disappeared. Tudor, at the time, was lying in a indoor monitor
33 queries taking 0.0738 seconds, 50 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.