But they did not break up. Another
boy stepped forward.
"You pay me," he said.
His eyes had the querulous, troubled look such as she had noticed in
monkeys; but while he was patently uncomfortable under her scrutiny, his
thick lips were drawn firmly in an effort at sullen determination.
"What for?" she asked.
"Me Gogoomy," he said. "Bawo brother belong me."
Bawo, she remembered, was the sick boy who had died.
"Go on," she commanded.
"Bawo take 'm medicine. Bawo finish. Bawo my brother. You pay me.
Father belong me one big fella chief along Port Adams. You pay me."
Joan laughed.
"Gogoomy, you just the same as Aroa, one big fool. My word, who pay me
for medicine?"
She dismissed the matter by passing through the gate and closing it. But
Gogoomy pressed up against it and said impudently:
"Father belong me one big fella chief. You no bang 'm head belong me. My
word, you fright too much."
"Me fright?" she demanded, while anger tingled all through her.
"Too much fright bang 'm head belong me," Gogoomy said proudly.
And then she reached for him across the gate and got him. It was a
sweeping, broad-handed slap, so heavy that he staggered sideways and
nearly fell. He sprang for the gate as if to force it open, while the
crowd surged forward against the fence.
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