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He said, "Yowi, he bin go longa other pub;" but as, on further questioning, he modified his statement by asserting that the man he saw was young, short and very fat, no heed was paid to his evidence it being the habit of blacks to give any answer that they think will please the questioner. "He'll play us some dog's trick, that old fellow," said Charlie. "I can't wait here looking for him, though.
'YOWI* I believe when Boss say PHO-PHO, my word! that one PHO-PHO. Plenty black feller frightened. Bridget pushed the unhappy gin along the track. 'You needn't be frightened. Boss has gone away. 'Boss no sit down long-a Humpey? Wombo looked relieved, and while Bridget reassured him, the three moved on towards the crossing.
It talked in austere tones, while their own sleepy lagoons were silent and tame. Wonderingly, they retreated to the jungle for the night, there to take counsel of the long-shoremen. "That b-i-g fella salt water, him talk all asame?" "Yowi! Him sing out plenty. Mak'm b-i-g fella row!" "That fella him walk about lika that?" "Yowi! Him walk about. Quiet little bit.
"Yowi," said the girl laughing. "He nice feller. You got 'em matches?" she said, beaming on Carew, and pulling a black pipe out of her trousers' pocket. "Big fool that Lucy, drop 'em matches." Carew handed over his match-box in speechless amazement. "They've been out all day with the cattle," said the old man. "I've got a lot of wild cattle in that there mob.
Wombo plenty frightened long-a ole husband belonging to me. And Oola dropped and knocked her head upon the ground, wailing the ear-piercing death-wail of the Australian native women. 'Oola, you must stop howling! said Bridget, alive to the seriousness of the situation. 'Has Wombo shot your husband with our gun? 'YOWI, Mithis. From Oola's broken revelations Bridget pieced the story.
He addressed nobody, but kept his eyes wandering all over the room; at length he said, looking at the ceiling, "Cobbon thirsty this fellow: you got a drop of brandy?" "Jerry," said Jim, having produced the brandy, "you make a light kangaroo." "All about plenty kangaroo," said Jerry. "Yowi; but mine want it big one flying doe." "Ah-h-h!
This from Tom?" asked the storekeeper naming one of his customers while he ran his eye over the paper. "Yowi! Tom bin make 'em." "What this fella talk?" "That fella talk plour; sugar, tea; two stick Derby," and, as a brilliant after thought "bottle rum!" "All right, by and bye," remarked the storekeeper.
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