gwine t' turn 'round. But am yo' suah dat mah mule Boomerang ain't hurted?"
"No, he's not hurt a bit, and I'm sure you are not. I didn't strike you hard, for I had almost stopped my machine. Try to get up. I'm positive you'll find yourself all right. I'm sorry it happened."
"Oh, dat's all right. Doan't mind me," went on the colored man. "It was mah fault fer gittin in de road. But dat mule Boomerang am suttinly de most outrageous quadraped dat ever circumlocuted."
"Why do you call him Boomerang?" asked Tom, wondering if the negro really was hurt.
"What fo' I call him Boomerang? Did yo' eber see dem Australian black mans what go around wid a circus t'row dem crooked sticks dey calls boomerangs?"
"Yes, I've seen them."
"Well, Boomerang, mah mule, am jest laik dat. He's crooked, t' begin wid, an' anudder t'ing, yo' can't never tell when yo' start him whar he's gwine t' land up. Dat's why I calls him Boomerang."
"I see. It's a very proper name. But why, don't you try to get up?"
"Does yo' t'ink I can?"
