He was wont to apply the
lather from pungent kerosene soap with a discarded tooth-brush which he
had picked up. Long use had thinned the bristles woefully, but the brush
was used faithfully and with grave deliberation. One morning he came and
said--"Boss, you got any more brush belonga shaving? This fella close
up lose 'em whisker altogether."
The sensational episodes of his trooper days provided George with
unending themes. He gave an account to a friend of the suppression of a
black rogue, a faithful report of which is presented as an example of
unbowdlerised pidgin English.
George--"You bin hear about Mr Limsee have fight? My word, he fight
proper; close up killed. We three fella ride about. Cap'n--big strong
boy that--me and Mr Limsee. Wild boy--boy from outside; Myall--beggar that
fella--longa gully. Hit Mr Limsee. He bin have long fella stick, like
that one Tom take a longa fight--short handle. Heavy fella that--carn
lif 'em easy, one hand. Mr Limsee tumbledown. Get up. That boy kill 'em
one time more hard. My word, strong fella boy that. Catch 'em Mr Limsee--
tchuk longa ground, hard fella--like that. Me and Cap'n come. Mr Limsee
alonga ground yet--'Hello! Mr Limsee, you bin hurt?' 'Yes, my boy
I hurt plenty.
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