" His opinions on the supernatural are
unsatisfactory. He does not know what the "debil-debil" is like, or
what form the ill-will of that mystic being would take--nothing but "that
fella sit down alonga scrub," and that he has "long fella needle alonga
hand"; and so he carries and waves about his paper bark torch to scare
this viewless and dreaded enemy.
Mickie's views as to the future are not quite explicit. "Suppose me go
bung, me go alonga sky. Bi'mby jump up 'nother fella." He is not at all
certain whether the transformation would be into a white man or not; in
fact he appears absolutely indifferent. Another time he will say--"Suppose
me go bung. Good-bye, finish; no come back. Plenty fella alonga
Palm Island go bung. He no come back." Daylight disperses all his fears.
In point of fact he has nothing to fear. His foes are dead, and there is
no poisonous snake or offensive animal on the Palms. Once he sprang
suddenly and excitedly into the air as we tramped through the long grass
on the edge of the sweetly-smelling jungle, with the exclamation,
"Little fella snake!" Being reminded that he had boldly asserted that
there was no bad snakes on the island, Mickie replied--"That fella no
bad.
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