“He want savvy if you no ’fraid?” translated Uma.

I laughed out.  “Not much!” says I.  “Tell him the place is a blooming toy-shop!  Tell him in England we give these things to the kids to play with.”

“He want savvy if you hear devil sing?” she asked next.

“Look here,” I said, “I can’t do it now because I’ve got no banjo-strings in stock; but the next time the ship comes round I’ll have one of these same contraptions right here in my verandah, and he can see for himself how much devil there is to it.  Tell him, as soon as I can get the strings I’ll make one for his picaninnies.  The name of the concern is a Tyrolean harp; and you can tell him the name means in English that nobody but dam-fools give a cent for it.”

This time he was so pleased he had to try his English again.  “You talk true?” says he.

“Rather!” said I.  “Talk all-e-same Bible.  Bring out a Bible here, Uma, if you’ve got such a thing, and I’ll kiss it.  Or, I’ll tell you what’s better still,” says I, taking a header, “ask him if he’s afraid to go up there himself by day.”

It appeared he wasn’t; he could venture as far as that by day and in company.

“That’s the ticket, then!” said I.  “Tell him the man’s a fraud and the place foolishness, and if he’ll go up there to-morrow he’ll see all that’s left of it.  But tell him this, Uma, and mind he understands it:  If he gets talking, it’s bound to come to Case, and I’m a dead man!  I’m playing his game, tell him, and if he says one word my blood will be at his door and be the damnation of him here and after.”

She told him, and he shook hands with me up to the hilt, and, says he:  “No talk.  Go up to-morrow.  You my friend?”

“No sir,” says I, “no such foolishness.  I’ve come here to trade, tell him, and not to make friends.  But, as to Case, I’ll send that man to glory!”

So off Maea went, pretty well pleased, as I could see.

CHAPTER V. NIGHT IN THE BUSH.

Well, I was committed now; Tiapolo had to be smashed up before next day, and my hands were pretty full, not only with preparations, but with argument.  My house was like a mechanics’ debating society:  Uma was so made up that I shouldn’t go into the bush by night, or that, if I did, I was never to come back again.  You know her style of arguing:  you’ve had a specimen about Queen Victoria and the devil; and I leave you to fancy if I was tired of it before dark.

At last I had a good idea.  What was the use of casting my pearls before her?  I thought; some of her own chopped hay would be likelier to do the business.

“I’ll tell you what, then,” said I.  “You fish out your Bible, and I’ll take that up along with me.  That’ll make me right.”

She swore a Bible was no use.

“That’s just your Kanaka ignorance,” said I.  “Bring the Bible out.”