un'erstan' catfish talk, I'll try you on catfish taste. Eat dis!" Zack held out a piece of fish to the savage, who took it suspiciously and crumbled tiny bits to the ground. Then he smelled of it, but did not eat.
"Eat it!" Zack ordered. "Tain't pizen. Here, gimme dat fish!"
After Zack had bit out a section to prove it wasn't poison, Odok nibbled the edges, chewed an experimental bite, bolted the balance, and extended his hand for more.
"Jeemunny, nigger," the Black Effendi exclaimed, giving him another chunk, another and another—hopeless as feeding nickels into a slot machine, but Zack persevered, nearly to the bottom of his pan.
"Side, how much kin one o' dese niggers eat?" Odok answered for himself by pressing closer to the dishpan, and shoving the others away, until Zack choked him off.
"Look here, nigger, you got to fire an' fall back. Let dese other niggers eat some. Tell him dat, Side." His master's flights of rhetoric kept Said guessing, but the wily Dongalawi always translated something to the addressee. Yet, with the aid of two interpreters and much noise, Said failed to convey this "fall-back" idea to Odok. The Shilluk maintained his position with open palm and mouth ready to fly open. Old Reliable
