“Or that it is poisoned,” said my uncle. “Taste it to show him it is good, Nat.”
I took up the tin mug of coffee and tasted it twice, then broke a piece off the biscuit, put a little of the herring upon it, and ate it, the savage watching me closely the while.
Then his face broke into a broad smile once more, and he made believe to have suddenly comprehended that the food was meant for him, for, taking a good draught of the coffee, he leaped up, tossing his arms on high, and danced round us, shouting with delight for quite a minute before he reseated himself, and ate his breakfast, a good hearty one too, chattering all the while, and not troubling himself in the least that we could not understand a word.
“I’m sorry about one thing, Nat,” my uncle said. “He would not eat that food because he was afraid that it was poisoned.”
“Well, wasn’t that right of him, uncle?” I said, “as we are quite strangers.”
“Yes, my boy; but it teaches us that he knows what poison is, and that these savages may make use of it at times.”
Our black guest looked at us intently whenever we spoke, and seemed to be trying to comprehend what we said, but began to laugh again as soon as he saw that we observed him, ending by jumping up and shaking hands again, and pointing to the rifle, seizing his spear, holding it up to his shoulder, and then making a very good imitation of the report with his mouth.
He then pointed to a bird flying at a distance, and laughed and nodded his head several times.
“That relieves us of a little difficulty, Nat,” said my uncle. “The Malay captain seems to have told him why we have come; but there is another difficulty still, and that is about leaving our stores.”
“It seems to me, uncle, that what we ought to do first is to learn the language.”