"Where are you going?" said he.
"Going aboard, to be sure; come on, they're waiting for us."
"You are, eh? going aboard, eh? Well, any thing to humor the idea. It sounds very like reality, indeed—very."
"And why shouldn't it?" said I.
"Of course, why shouldn't it? Look here, Luff, you're rather a clever sort of fellow."
"Do you think so?" said I, a little embarrassed at so abrupt an opinion in my favor.
"Yes, I do," said the Doubter; "I always did. Will you just have the goodness to look into my mouth (opening it at the same time as wide as he could). Now, just cast your eyes into this cavity."
I did as he desired me, thinking perhaps the poor fellow was suffering from his fall into the goat-pit.
"Well," said I, "there's nothing there, so far as I can see, except a piece of tobacco. Your tongue looks badly."
"It does, eh? No matter about that. This is what I want you to notice: that I have a tolerably big swallowing apparatus, but I'm not the style of man that's calculated to swallow an entire island. Possibly I might get down a piece of a skull, or an old saucepan, with a grain of salt; but I can't swallow Juan Fernandez, with Robinson Crusoe and Alexander Selkirk—two of the biggest liars that ever existed, on top of it. No, sir, it can't be done."