Lolo put his hand on the child’s arm as if to judge of her condition.
Barclay longed to throttle him.
“I not like discourage you,” he said. “No, I not do that thing; in two tree year, plaps, you be fit. Great warrior not care eat much baby. Makee he heart soft.”
Teenie was satisfied.
Lolo now broke off into a dissertation on the merits and delights of man’s flesh as food. He had a wonderful flow of language, for the subject was altogether to his taste.
It would be too horrible to read or write all he said, but I must tell you that his was a savage eloquence worthy of a better cause, and that made the blood of even the rough sailors in the boat run cold as they listened to him.
If you have not yet read Elia’s (Lamb’s) eulogy on a roast sucking pig, do so by all means. Elia was eloquent, but Lolo on his subject could have given him twenty points out of the hundred, and beaten him easily.
Even Antonio was at last obliged to change the subject. It became too gruesome.
But by this time they were nearly across the lagoon, and soon they landed.
The king’s hut, or shall we say palace, was built on a small hill, and stood inside a compound composed of cocoa-nut matting.