"What? Not want something to eat?"

"Baal, can't eat," replied the black. "Mine got sore all along. Dat
boomer fellow squeezum."

Norman laid his hand gently on the black's side, wondering whether the
poor fellow had a broken rib, when, with the most solemn of faces,
Shanter uttered a loud squeak.

Norman snatched back his hand, but placed it directly after on the other
side, when Shanter squeaked again more loudly; and at every touch, back
or front, there was a loud cry, the black looking from one to the other
in the most lugubrious way.

"Why, Shanter, you seem to be bad all over," said Rifle.

"Yohi. Mine bad all along, plenty mine bad. Tam go bong."

"Nonsense!" cried Norman. "Come and have a good breakfast. Plenty
damper, plenty tea, and you'll be better."

"Baal damper--baal big tea," said the black, rubbing himself. "Boomer
mumkull Tam o' Shanter. Mine go bong."

He laid himself gently down on the grass, rolled a little and groaned,
and then stretched himself out, and shut his eyes.

"Oh, it's only his games," said Rifle.--"Here, Shanter, old chap, jump
up and say thanky, thanky to Marmi Tim for saving your life."

"Marmi Tim baal save Tam o' Shanter. All go along bong."

"I'm afraid he is bad," said Norman, going down on one knee to pass his
hand over the poor fellow's ribs, with the result that he uttered a
prolonged moan; "but I don't think there are any bones broken. Let's
get some breakfast ready. He'll be better after some hot tea."

They threw a pile of wood on the embers, in which a damper was soon
baking; and as soon as the billy boiled, a handful of tea was thrown in
and the tin lifted from the fire to stand and draw. But though they
took Tam a well-sweetened pannikin of the refreshing drink he would not
swallow it, neither would he partake of the pleasant smelling,
freshly-baked cake.

"I say, I'm afraid the poor chap is bad," whispered Tim.

"Not he," said Rifle. "His ribs are sore with the hugging the boomer
gave him, but he's only shamming. I'll rouse him up."

He made a sign to Norman, who looked very anxious, and when the lads
were a few yards away, Rifle made them a sign to watch their patient,
who lay quite still with his eyes shut, and then suddenly shouted:

"Quick, boys, guns--guns! Black fellows coming."

Shanter started up into a sitting position and tried to drag out his
nulla-nulla, but his eyes closed again, and he fell back heavily.

Norman tried t