human
What you think, Yarloo? asked Mick, after a time.
gpt
You think it me or you ride Ajax longa Sidcotinga, bring um back water, horses, eh?
human
You ride, boss, he said decidedly.
gpt
You ride. Me stay here.
human
What name? (Why?)
gpt
White man drink more water nor black fella, he explained.
human
S'pose me stay, me drink little, little drop. Me think you drink big mob. He hesitated and dug the little stick into the ground with an embarrassed air. The boy had evidently got another reason, and his listeners wanted to hear it. He looked at Mick as if he didn't know whether he ought to say it or not, and then he blurted out:
gpt
You good white man all right, boss. You know um bush more better not big mob white men. (You know the bush better than most white men.) Yarloo know um bush much more better nor you, boss. Me bin grow up little piccaninny longa bush.... S'pose--s'pose you no come back.... S'pose you fall off horse.... S'pose you die, p'raps me find um water.
human
Good, Yarloo, said Mick encouragingly.
gpt
Go ahead.
human
One time me work longa Boss Stobart, said the boy slowly and hesitatingly.
gpt
Him altogether good boss. Him plenty good quite. That one white boy, he pointed to Sax,
human
Of course you stay, Yarloo. You stay all right. You look after white boy real good.