"Don't shake hands with him, Wallenstein," Grief warned. "_Tambo_, you know." Then to Koho, "My word, you get 'm too much fat stop along you. Bime by you marry along new fella Mary, eh?"
"Too old fella me," Koho answered, with a weary shake of the head. "Me no like 'm Mary. Me no like 'm _kai-kai_ (food). Close up me die along altogether." He stole a significant glance at Worth, whose head was tilted back to a long glass. "Me like 'm rum."
Grief shook his head.
"_Tambo_ along black fella."
"He black fella no tambo," Koho retorted, nodding toward the groaning labourer.
"He fella sick," Grief explained.
"Me fella sick."
"You fella big liar," Grief laughed. "Rum tambo, all the time tambo. Now, Koho, we have big fella talk along this big fella mar-ster."
And he and Wallenstein and the
