“Beat them off! Hark at him!” said Joses. “Why, what a boy it is. He talks of beating off a whole tribe of Indians as if they were so many Jack rabbits.”
“Well, we are Englishmen,” said Bart proudly.
“Yes, we are Englishmen,” said Joses, winking to himself and laying just a little emphasis upon the men; “but we can’t do impossibilities if we bes English.”
“Joses, you’re a regular old croaker, and always make the worst of things instead of the best.”
“So would you if you was hungry as I am, my lad. I felt just now as if I could set to and eat one o’ them alligators that paddles about in the lagoons, whacking the fishes in the shallows with their tails till they’re silly, and then shovelling of them up with their great jaws.”
“Well, for my part, Joses, I’d rather do as the alligators do to the fish.”
“What, whack ’em with their tails? Why, you ain’t got no tail, Master Bart.”
“No, no! Eat the fish.”
“Oh, ah! yes. I could eat a mess o’ fish myself, nicely grilled on some bits o’ wood, and yah! mind! look out!”
Joses uttered these words with quite a yell as, dropping his rifle, he stooped, picked up a lump of rock from among the many that lay about on the loose stony hill slope they were climbing, and hurled it with such unerring aim, and with so much force, that the hideous grey reptile they had disturbed, seeking to warm itself in the first sunbeams, and which had raised its ugly head threateningly, and begun to creep away with a low, strange rattling noise, was struck about the middle of its back, and now lay writhing miserably amidst the stones.