The man, who had been watching him intently, sprang to his side on the instant, looking ready to obey the slightest order.
“Tell your boys to take the snake over to the sands and light a fire there to roast it. They can make a feast.”
The black nodded, as if fully endorsing the plan. “Jackum go too.”
“No, stop, I want you. Send all the others.”
“Jackum want eat.”
“You shall have plenty to eat,” cried Carey, and the man grinned, spoke sharply to his companions, who ran with him forward, and, as the pair watched them and listened, they heard quite a babel of excited voices rise, and Carey’s heart sank.
“They won’t go,” he said.
“Oh, won’t they, sir,” said Bostock, with a chuckle. “You’ll see directly.”
The old sailor was right, for directly after they were seen carrying the carefully skinned and cleaned serpent to the side, where they lowered it into the boat, into which they crowded till it was full, four of them perching on the outrigger.
Then with a loud shout the heavily-laden canoe was pushed off, the paddles began to splash, and Jackum came back.