"
"What I'd like"--it was Davie Paine's heavy, slow voice--"is just a drink
of water and some ship's bread."
"Well," said Roger, "we'll find neither bread nor rubies lying on the
beach, and since we're agreed that it's best to get out of sight, let's set
off."
He was about to plunge blindly into the marsh, when Blodgett, who had been
ranging restlessly while we talked, cried, "Here's a road! As I'm alive
here's a road!"
We trooped over to where he stood, and saw, sure enough, an opening in the
brush and grass where the ground was beaten hard as if by the passing of
many feet.
"Well, let's be on our way," said Blodgett, starting forward.
"No, sah, dat ain't no way foh to go!" the cook exclaimed. He stood there,
head thrown forward, chin out-thrust, the cleaver, which he had carried all
the time since we left the ship, hanging at his side.
"Why not?" asked Roger.
"'Cause, sah, whar dey's a road dey's humans and humans heahbouts on dese
yeh islands is liable to be drefful free with strangers. Yass, sah, if we
go a-walkin' along dat yeh road, fust thing we know we's gwine walk into a
whole mob of dem yeh heathens. Den whar'll we be?" In answer to his
question, the negro thrust out his left hand and, grasping an imaginary
opponent by the throat, raised the cleaver, and swept it through the air
with a slicing motion.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179