"That's what they yell when they score a hit with the rocks!" Jane exclaimed excitedly. "He likes it! But, oh, Judy, supposing it should be poisonous to him after all!"
"Nothing ventured, nothing won," Judy repeated. "Here, have some more soup."
"Oup," the native said. "Arrr-aff!"
Jane and Judy looked at one another proudly.
"Oup," said a wistful voice near them. "Oup?"
The stone-throwing had almost entirely stopped. "Oup?" several voices took up the cry. "Oooooooup?"
"You'd better go put another kettle on, Jane," Judy told her.
"What's happened?" Ned McComb asked, as the two men came back from their voyage. "How did you get the natives to stop throwing rocks? And why are they standing outside chanting something like 'oup?'"
"It's supper time," Judy explained, looking up from the stove with a flushed face. "Hand me the salt, Jane—they like a lot of salt."