"Sure an' he'll be a treasure, sorr," said Barney, as he handed Mr. Martindale his cup of tea and plate of broiled fish.
"As fast as he can, sorr. 'Twas want uv food more than wounds that was wrong wid him. All he really needs is a dish uv good honest murphies twice a day, and sorry I am they do not grow in this haythen counthry."
It was one of Barney's crosses that the only potatoes obtainable _en route_ were the sweet variety. Mr. Martindale rather liked them--a weakness which Barney regarded with sorrow as an injustice to Ireland.
Breakfast finished, the canoes were manned and the expedition resumed its journey. Samba kept the negroes amused with his songs and chatter and clever imitations of the cries of birds and beasts. His restless eyes seemed to miss nothing of the scenes along the river. He would point to what appeared to be a log cast up on the sand and exclaim "Nkoli!" and utter shrill screams: and the log would perhaps disappear, leaving no trace, or move and open a sleepy eye, and Barney ejaculate, "A crocodile, by all the holy powers!" Once he drew Jack's attention to a greenish lizard, some eight inches long, creeping down an ant-hill towards a tiny shrew mouse. Spying the enemy, the little creature darted down the slope, and took a header into the water; but the lizard came close upon its heels, sprang after it, and dragged it down into the deep.
"And what do you make of this?" said Jack suddenly, showing Samba the amulet he had torn from the neck of the midnight marauder. The boy started, stared at the piece of bone, looked up in Jack's face and exclaimed--
"Him say belong him uncle," Nando interpreted.
"Him say belong berrah bad uncle on smoke-boat, sah. Him say how massa get him?"
Jack related the incident of the night, Nando translating to the boy, who listened gravely, but smiled at the end.
"He say him uncle no lib for good any more: lost medicine ring; he no fit for do bad fings any more: get cotched ebery time."
"Begorra, sorr, 'tis like me very own uncle Tim, who niver had a day's luck after he lost the lucky sixpence given to 'm by a ginerous kind gentleman for holding a horse in Sackville Street whin he was a bhoy. He had always been unlucky before that, sorr, and sure the lucky sixpence would have made a rich man uv him in time; but he lost it the very same day, sorr, and had no luck at all at all."