“Well, our monkeys are as good for men to eat, as for cats,” said Moro.
“Imagination has as much as taste to do with food; and, unless you call my next stewed monkey dish, deer or lamb, I won’t eat it,” I remarked.
Fil and Moro laughed and winked; for they had planned this true but strange story to make me feel uncomfortable for a minute.
Chapter XIII
Flying Ants and Locusts
We all climbed back into the buffalo-wagon, to go homeward. On the way, we passed a house which had collapsed in the middle, as though a great weight had broken its backbone.
“A blind, flying ant did that,” said Fil.
“Now, Fil, you really think I’m from the backwoods; you wish me to believe impossible tales,” I replied.