"Lost your appetite?" laughed Dick.
"No, not exactly. I just—think I've had—enough! Guess I'll take a little walk!" And Dan disappeared on the trot.
Ray gave Dick a reproachful look. "Is that nice?" she asked. But she was unable to keep back a smile.
"Dan Sahib is bound to the wheel of fleshly enjoyment," remarked the Mahatma. "He must learn to restrain his appetites."
"Especially his appetite for stew, when dining with jungle blacks!" laughed Dick.
The meal was prolonged far into the night and broken by exhibitions of tribal dances. First the Gorols pranced about the fire in single file. They bent low, shuffling along and uttering monkey-like cries, while to make the resemblance perfect they had tied long twigs to their belts, so that they waggled like tails during the dance.
With their dark skins, long thin arms and legs and primitive features, they looked more like ape-men than ever and Ray and Dick shouted with laughter.
Dan Carter returned to the circle, attracted by the noise.
"Get in line, Dan, you are all that's needed to complete the picture," his friend kidded him.
"I don't—think I feel—like dancing," replied Dan, still a little greenish about the gills. "I'm not feeling very well."