“We have learned,” interrupted La Cueille, “and it is not very pleasant. In the name of the saints, cease your prating. It is enough to turn one sea-sick. Nom d’une pipe! how provoking these savants are! You had better tell us whether we shall have to eat this stuff much longer.”
“No, no! my worthy Walloon,” said Johannes, “you will have to eat it only once more for breakfast. I hope by this time to-morrow we shall be encamped at soengei Minjangan, where our women will be able to boil their rice as usual.”
“Thank heaven!” La Cueille muttered. “Only fancy being compelled to consume this muck for several days.”
“You would not get thinner, I assure you. On the contrary it would give your skin a fine glossy appearance. Hence they frequently mix it with the food of horses and dogs.”
In the meantime the day was drawing to a close. The sun was gradually disappearing behind the margin of the forest when Hamadoe beckoned Wienersdorf to come to her. She was suffering intensely from thirst and begged her lover to procure her some water. Wienersdorf, accompanied by La Cueille and Dalim, entered the forest to seek more of the pitcher-plants with their valuable contents. In order to gather as many as possible, they separated from each other to prosecute an independent search. As a means of communication they were to call and respond to each other with the cry of the takakak. Their quest proved most successful. In a very short time each had found ten cups. Wienersdorf had already given the original taaaaak kakākākāk, when something weighty fell from a tree just in front of him. He stooped to see what it was and to his astonishment perceived, [[306]]lying in the tall grass, what looked like a hideous child covered with red hair. It did not move, but remained rolled up like a huge ball: its legs drawn together, its face peering from between its elbows, and its stomach protruding above its contracted knees. He at once concluded that it was a monkey.
“It is rather a large one though,” he muttered.
While stooping over the animal he felt something jump on his back and grasp him by the neck. Then came a rapid succession of blows, as if administered by a professional cudgeller.
“Himmelskreuz donnerwetter!” exclaimed the Swiss, terrified.
He endeavored to rise but was unable to do so; the load on his back was too heavy and the hand at his throat squeezed like a vise. All his efforts to shake off his assailant proved ineffectual. The cudgelling continued with increased force. At length his strength gave way. Breathless and nearly suffocated he just had power enough to cry:
“In God’s name, help.” Then he sank down and became insensible.