"You'll need to rule them with a rod of iron," Mac said, secretly pleased
with his success. But there was one drawback to his methods, for next
day, with the exception of Nellie, there were no lubras to rule with or
without a rod of iron.
Jimmy, the water-carrier and general director of the woodheap gossip,
explained that they had gone off with the camp lubras for a day's
recreation; "Him knock up longa all about work," he said, with an
apologetic smile. Jimmy was either apologetic or condescending.
Nellie rounded them up when they returned, and the Maluka suggested, as a
way out of the difficulty, that I should try to make myself more
attractive than the camp lubras, which Mac said "shouldn't be difficult,"
and then coughed, doubtful of the compliment.
I went down to the Creek at once to carry out the Maluka's suggestion,
and succeeded so well that I was soon the centre of a delighted dusky
group, squatting on its haunches, and deep in fascinations of teaching an
outsider its language. The uncouth mispronunciations tickled the old men
beyond description, and they kept me gurgling at difficult gutturals,
until, convulsed at the contortion of everyday words and phrases, they
echoed Dan's opinion in queer pidgin-English that the "missus needed a
deal of education.
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