"Knowledge," I replied, "is a remarkable thing; it amazes me and my friends who are familiar with the classics, though I believe there is very little to know in that department. Even the chemists astonish me, and the people who talk technically about warships are remarkable men; but I see that in your case, as in that of so many others, I have more to learn with every day I live, for there came a growl from the underwood and you knew it to be that of a tiger—nay, of a tigress. But," I continued, lifting my hand as he would interrupt me, "though it fills me with admiration it does not make me hesitate, for I know men who can talk a language after passing a week in the country to which it is native, and I beg you to fulfil my curiosity."
"I heard the growl of a tigress," said he, eager to continue his narrative, "proceeding from the underwood, which is called in that country rawak."
"Why is it called rawak?" I interrupted.
"Because," he explained, with an intelligent look, "it is composed of mera roots and sinchu closely interlaced, with a screen of reeds ten feet high or more waving above it."
I told him that I now perfectly understood and desired to hear more.
"I heard," said he, "the growl of a tigress, and I at once made ready my arm and prepared for the worst."
"When you say made ready your arm" (I again interrupted him) "I want to seize the matter clearly, for the interest of your tale absorbs me—what exactly did you do to the instrument, for I am acquainted with a certain number of firearms, and each has to be prepared in a different manner?"
"I pulled the bolt," said he coldly, and then maintained rather an offended silence.
"Did you not snap the safety catch?" said I, in some fear that I had put him out by my cross-examination.