At last Diada concluded her feast, tossed the undevoured links of sausage on the floor and started back toward the other room. The two men followed because there was nothing else to do. When they had seated themselves before the fire Vinegar said:
“Hitch, talk to her a little bit an’ git her feelin’ good, an’ mebbe her’ll let us go back to town.”
“I dunno how to begin,” Hitch complained. “Ef a cullud lady won’t talk, seems like I cain’t git no hand-holt to remark nothin’ to her.”
“Ax her inquirements!” Vinegar advised.
There was silence in the cabin while Hitch explored his brain for a suitable question to ask. Outside the raidn fell in a torrent and the jungle roared like thunder. Finally Hitch spoke:
“Diader, does you enjoy yo’ meals in dis country?”
Diada did not answer, but Vinegar Atts did.
“Git away from de subjeck of grub, Hitch. De sausages is done all been et mighty nigh, an’ whut is dis she-heathen got to eat fer supper but us?”
“I ain’t gwine be here fer supper!” Hitch informed him.
“Me neither—ef I makes no mistake,” Vinegar replied earnestly. “Go on wid dem inquirements!”