“Yes, uncle.”
“It will be rather dangerous, my boy.”
“Yes, uncle,” I said. “I suppose so; but I want to get over being so afraid of things. I’m quite ready now.”
I looked to him to come on at once, but he did not move, and stood looking at me for some minutes without speaking.
“Then we will go and attack the brute, Nat,” he said; “but it will not go away from that bit of a swamp, so we will try and put a little more nerve into our hearts with a good breakfast, and then have Ebo to help us, unless he proves to be a worse coward than you.”
“He could not be, uncle,” I said pitifully; and I felt very, very miserable.
“Oh! yes, he could be, Nat, my boy,” said my uncle, smiling, and grasping me affectionately by the arm. “You are a coward, Nat, but you fought with your natural dread, mastered it, and are ready to go and attack that beast. Master Ebo may be a coward and not fight with and master his dread. So you see the difference, my boy.”
Another shout from the black made us hasten our steps to where he was dancing about and pointing to the crisp brown pigeons, big as chickens, with great green leaves for plates, and the new ripe cocoa-nuts divested of their husks; but for a few moments I could not eat for thinking of the serpent. My fresh young appetite asserted itself though soon after, and, forgetting the danger to come, I made one of the most delicious of meals.