"Happy thought!" said Frank.
Frank's mind, by the way, was partially built upon happy thoughts, and there was always one or two ready to bob up on the surface.
"What now, Frank?"
"We've lots of wine, and we won't drink it. Suppose we take King Pig a bottle."
They did so, and also some more beads.
They marched--that is, Frank and Duncan, Conal being left at home to keep house--straight to the king's kraal.
They sang as they entered the village, seeming to know by instinct what I had to learn from experience, that a happy, independent, and careless manner goes a long way to impress savages with one's superiority.
The cannibal king was just getting up. He had eaten too much the night before, and overslept himself. But he seemed glad to see our heroes, smiled, and poked his black, fat fingers funnily towards them.
His hut was a big one, but something in it immediately caught Frank's eye. It was a huge, black, and horribly ugly doll. The king's god, without a doubt. It was as black as the ace of clubs, with red lips and white tusks. The eyes seemed to glare at the intruders, but the intruders didn't mind.
Frank drew nearer to it, for something in this wooden god's head shone with a light that was perfectly dazzling. Anyone could have seen it was a diamond of the purest water.