Don't let's fail through being too hasty.

All in good time." But the time did seem so long, for there was a great deal to do.
Jimmy--who by the way really bore some peculiar native name that sounded like Wulla Gurra--was fitted out with a serviceable sailor's suit, of which he was very proud, and never prouder than when he could see it to its best advantage.
This was in the wool barn, where, upon every opportunity, the black used to retreat to relieve himself of the unwonted garb, and hang it up against the shingle wall.

Then he would show his teeth to the gums and squat down, embrace his knees, and gaze at the clothes.
When satisfied with the front he would rise deliberately, go to the wall, turn every article, and have a good look at the other side.
We ran some risks at this time, for our henchman was given his first lessons in the use of a rifle, and for a long time, no matter how the doctor tried, it seemed as if it was impossible for the black to hold the piece in any other direction than pointed straight at one of his friends.

By slow degrees, though, he got over it, and wanted lessons in loading and firing more often than his master was prepared to give them.
Jimmy had heard the report of a gun hundreds of times, but his experience had never gone so far as holding the piece when it was fired; and when, after being carefully shown how to take aim, he was treated to a blank charge and pulled the trigger, the result was that I threw myself on the ground and shrieked with laughter, while the doctor seated himself upon a stump and held his sides, with the tears rolling down his cheeks.
For at the flash and report Jimmy uttered a yell, dropped the rifle, and turned and ran as hard as he could for the barn, never once looking behind him.
A couple of minutes were, however, sufficient to let his fear evaporate, and he came back waddy in fist, half shamefaced, half angry, and rubbing his right shoulder the while.
"Don't do dat," he cried fiercely.

"Don't do dat.