"He doesn't mean any harm. The blacks call all the women who come white Marys."

"And their wives too?"

"Oh no; they call them their gins. Come, cut him a big piece of bread, and I'll start him off. I want for us to get to rest."

"Am I to cut it in slices and b.u.t.ter it?"

"No, no. Cut him one great lump."

Aunt Georgie sighed, opened a white napkin, took out a large loaf, and cut off about a third, which she impaled on the point of the knife, and held out at arm's length, while another roar of laughter rose at the scene which ensued.

For the black looked at the bread, then at Aunt Georgie, then at the bread again suspiciously. There was the gleaming point of that knife hidden within the soft crumb; and as his mental capacity was nearly as dark as his skin, and his faith in the whites, unfortunately--from the cla.s.s he had encountered and from whom he had received more than one piece of cruel ill-usage--far from perfect, he saw in imagination that sharp point suddenly thrust right through and into his black flesh as soon as he tried to take the piece of loaf.

The boys literally shrieked as the black stretched out a hand, made a feint to take it, and s.n.a.t.c.hed it back again.

"Take it, you stupid!" cried Aunt Georgie, with a menacing gesture.

"Hetty--Ida--look!" whispered Tim, as the black advanced a hand again, but more cautiously.

"Mind!" shouted Rifle; and the black bounded back, turned to look at the boy, and then showed his white teeth.

"Are you going to take this bread?" cried Aunt Georgie, authoritatively.

"No tick a knifum in Shanter?" said the black in reply.

"Nonsense! No."

"Shanter all soff in frontum."

"Take the bread."

Every one was laughing and watching the little scone with intense enjoyment as, full of doubt and suspicion, the black advanced his hand again very cautiously, and nearly touched the bread, when Aunt Georgie uttered a contemptuous "pish!" whose effect was to make the man bound back a couple of yards, to the lady's great disgust.

"I've a great mind to throw it at his stupid, cowardly head," she cried angrily.

"Don't do that," said the captain, wiping his eyes. "Poor fellow! he has been tricked before. A burned child fears the fire.--Hi! Ashantee, take the bread," said the captain, and he wiped his eyes again.

"Make um all cry," said the black, apostrophising Aunt Georgie; then, turning to the captain, "Big white Mary won't tick knifum in poor Shanter?"

"No, no, she will not.--Here, auntie, give him the bread with your hand."

"I won't," said Aunt Georgie, emphatically. "I will not encourage his nasty, suspicious thoughts. He must be taught better. As if I, an English lady, would do such a thing as behave like a murderous bravo of Venice.--Come here, sir, directly, and take that bread off the point of the knife," and she accompanied her words with an unmistakable piece of pantomime, holding the bread out, and pointing with one finger.

"Don't, pray, don't stop the fun, uncle," whispered Tim.

"No; let 'em alone," growled Uncle Jack, whose face was puckered up into a broad laugh.

"Do you hear me, sir?"

"No tick a knifum in?"

"No; of course not. No--No."

"All right," said the black; and he stretched out his hand again, and with his eyes fixed upon Aunt Georgie, he slowly approached till he nearly touched the bread.

"That's right; take it," said the old lady, giving it a sharp push forward at the same moment, and the black leaped back once more with a look of disgust upon his face which gave way to another grin.

"What shame!" he cried in a tone of remonstrance. "'Tick knife in, make um bleed. Damper no good no more."

"Well, of all the horrible creatures!" cried Aunt Georgie, who stood there full in the firelight in happy unconsciousness of the fact that the scene was double, for the shadows of the two performers were thrown grotesquely but distinctly upon the wall of verdure by their side.

Just then a happy thought struck the black, who advanced again nearly within reach of the bread, planted his spear behind him as a support, holding it with both hands, and then, grinning mightily at his own cunning in keeping his body leaning back out of reach, he lifted one leg, and with his long elastic foot working, stretched it out and tried to take the piece of bread with his toes.

A perfect shriek of laughter arose from the boys at this, and the black turned sharply to give them a self-satisfied nod, as if to say, "She can't get at me now," while the mirth increased as Aunt Georgie s.n.a.t.c.hed the bread back.

"That you don't, sir," she cried. "Such impudence! You take that bread properly, or not a bit do you have."

As she spoke she shook the knife at him, and the black again leaped back, looked serious, and then scratched his head as if for a fresh thought.

The idea came as Aunt Georgie stretched out the bread again.

"Now, sir," she cried, "come and take it this instant."

The black hesitated, then, slowly lowering the spear, he brought the point down to the bread and made a sudden poke at it; but the fire-hardened point glanced off the crust, and two more attempts failed.

"No," said Aunt Georgie; "you don't have it like that, sir. I could turn the crumb round and let you get it, but you shall take it properly in your hand. Now then, take it correctly."

She made another menacing gesture, which caused the black to shrink; but he was evidently hungry, and returned to get the bread; so this time he advanced with lowered spear, and as he drew near he laid the weapon on the bread, and slowly advanced nearer and nearer, the spear pa.s.sing over the bread till, as the black's left hand touched the loaf, the point of the spear was within an inch of Aunt Georgie's breast. But the old lady did not shrink. She stood her ground bravely, her eyes fixed on the black's and her lips going all the time.

"Oh, you suspicious wretch!" she cried. "How dare you doubt me! Yes; you had better! Why, if you so much as scratched me with the point of your nasty stick, they would shoot you dead. There, take it."

The captain felt startled, for just then she made a sharp gesture when the black was in the act of s.n.a.t.c.hing the bread. But the alarm was needless; the savage's idea was to protect himself, not to resist her, and as the quick movement she made caused the bread to drop from the point of the knife, he bobbed down, secured it almost as it touched the ground, caught it up, and darted back.

"Shanter got a damper," he cried; and tearing off a piece, he thrust it into his mouth. "Hah, nice, good. Soff damper. No tick knifum in Shanter dis once."

"There," said the captain, advancing, "you have your damper, and there's another sixpence for you. Now go."

The black ceased eating, and looked at the little piece of silver.

"What for tickpence?" he said.

"For you--for your gin."

"Hey, Shanter no got gin. Gin not have tickpence." He shook his head, and went on eating.

"Very well then; good-night. Now go."

"Go 'long?"