Chapter Twenty Four.
“No, no, Pomp,” I said, after a time, during which we had been thoroughly enjoying our food, “you’ve had quite enough. We shall want to make this last till night.”
“Mass’ George no want to finish um all up?”
“No.”
“So not hav’ to carry walletum.”
“Of course not. We shall soon be hungry again.”
“Catch fis; shoot de duck; Pomp fine plenty ’tick; and make a fire.”
“I wish you’d find the boat,” I said, packing up the remains of the meal the while. “Think it’s any use to go any farther?”
“Yes; go right on, Mass’ George; plenty time.”
“Yes, we’ll go on,” I said, for I felt refreshed and rested, and as if I should like to go journeying on for days—the beauty of the river and the various things we saw exciting a desire to continue our trip. “I don’t suppose any one ever came here before, but we mustn’t lose our way.”