"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 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.
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