What ho, Cheon!" as Cheon
appeared and greeted him as an old friend. "Heard you were here. You're
the boy for my money. You BALLY ass! Keep 'em back from the water
there." This last was for the black boy. It took discrimination to fit
the Fizzer's remarks on to the right person. Then, as a pack-bag dropped
at the Maluka's feet, he added: "That's the station lot, boss. Full
bags, missus! Two on 'em. You'll be doing the disappearing trick in half
a mo'."
In "half a mo'" the seals were broken, and the mail-matter shaken out on
the ground. A cascade of papers, magazines, and books, with a fat, firm
little packet of letters among them: forty letters in all--thirty of them
falling to my lot--thirty fat, bursting envelopes, and in another "half
mo'" we had all slipped away in different directions--each with our
precious mail matter--doing the "disappearing trick" even to the Fizzer's
satisfaction.
The Fizzer smiled amiably after the retreating figures, and then went to
be entertained by Cheon. He expected nothing else. He provided feasts
all along his route, and was prepared to stand aside while the bush-folk
feasted.
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