Cleary tried in vain to explain what a lunatic was. The Moritos had never seen one.
"We have plenty of such houses at home," said Sam, "and we have had to double their size in ten years to hold the lunatics; they are splendid buildings. There was one not very far from the college where my friend and I were educated. But some of our prisons are even larger than our lunatic asylums."
"What is a prison," asked Carlos.
"Oh," said Sam, "don't you understand that either? It's a house in which we lock up criminals—I mean men who kill us or rob us."
"Oh, I see," replied Carlos. "You mean your enemies whom you take prisoner in battle."
"No, I don't. I mean our own fellow citizens who murder and steal."
"Do you mean that you sometimes kill each other and steal from each other, your own tribe?"
"Yes," said Sam. "Of course people who do so are bad men, but there are some such among us."
A great discussion arose among the natives after hearing this.
"What do they say?" asked Colonel James in Castalian.