They waited for some time before a soft patter of bare feet was heard in the hall and two of the native servants entered carrying between them a barrel. Another followed with a sort of dipper made out of a cocoanut.
The boys stared in amazement as the men advanced to the middle of the room and solemnly set down the barrel and then stood about waiting with an expectant look on their faces.
“What in the world is all this?” demanded the amazed Jack.
“Him your bath, boss,” came the answer, “you gettee in him ballel, we washee you.”
“I’ll be jiggered if you do,” exclaimed Jack. “Get out of here,” and the men hurried off, first staring at the boy as if they thought he was mad. “Well, a New Guinea bath certainly accounts for the appearance of some of the natives I’ve seen about,” he laughed, as soon as they had left. “But I suppose I must make the best of it.”
So Jack’s bath consisted of dipping water out of the tub and pouring it over himself, trying not to flood the room. But apparently he did so, for soon a loud and indignant voice was heard at the door.
“Who is there?” demanded the boys.
“Sapristi! Eet is I. Zee landlord. You flood zee place. Zee water drip on me.”
“Sorry,” sang out Jack, cheerfully, “but I’m doing the best I can. You see, I’m not used to the customs of the country yet. I don’t understand your way of bathing.”
“What do you mean zee bathing?”