The first two days were spent in a whirlwind of dust and rubbish, turned
out from unguessed-at recesses, and Cheon's jovial humour suiting his
helpers to a nicety, the rubbish was dealt with amid shouts of delight
and enjoyment; until Jimmy, losing his head in his lightness of heart,
dug Cheon in the ribs, and, waving a stick over his head, yelled in mock
fierceness: "Me wild-fellow, black fellow. Me myall-fellow."
Then Cheon came out in a new role. Without a moment's hesitation his arms
and legs appeared to fly out all together in Jimmy's direction,
completely doubling him up.
"Me myall-fellow, too," Cheon said calmly, master of himself and the
situation. Then, chuckling at Jimmy's discomfiture, he went on with his
work, while his helpers stared open-eyed with amazement; an infuriated
Chinese catherine-wheel being something new in the experience of a black
fellow. It was a wholesome lesson, though, and no one took liberties with
Cheon again.
The rubbish disposed of, leaking water-butts, and the ruins of collapsed
water-butts, were carried to the billabong, swelled in the water,
hammered and hooped back into steadfast, reliable water-butts, and
trundled along to their places in a merry, joyous procession.
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