"Yes, excellent; and very often have I had a good dinner from one in the West Indies, and in South America. Stop, let us come a little this way; I see a leaf which I should like to examine."
"The ground is very swampy just here, Ready; is it not?"
"Yes; there's plenty of water below, I don't doubt. So much the better for the animals; we must dig some pools when they come here.
"Oh! I thought I was not wrong. Look! this is the best thing I have found yet - we now need not care so much about potatoes."
"Why, what are they, Ready?"
"Yams, which they use instead of potatoes in the West Indies. Indeed, potatoes do not remain potatoes long, when planted in hot climates."
"How do you mean, Ready?"
"They turn into what they call sweet-potatoes, after one or two crops: yams are better things, in my opinion."
At this moment the dogs dashed among the broad yam leaves, and commenced baying; there was a great rustling and snorting.
"What's that?" cried William, who had been stooping down to examine the yam plant, and who was startled at the noise.