Discouraged by their want of success, and still feeling feeble, they did not go out again that day, but remained resting under the tree.
While they were munching their evening meal—of durions, as the dinner had been—the Malay commenced discoursing upon eggs, which set them all thinking about them. If they only had a few, it would be just the very thing to nourish and give them strength. But where were the eggs to be obtained? This was the question asked him by the Irishman, who could at that moment have eaten a dozen, boiled, fried, poached, in omelette, or even, as he said himself, have “sucked” them.
“Iggs indade!” he exclaimed, as Saloo made mention of the article; “I’d loike to see one, an could ate a basketful of them, if they were as big as swans’. What puts iggs in your head, nigger?”
“Eggs no long way off,” rejoined the Malay. “Plenty egg if we knowee whale find ’em.”
“How do you know that? Ye’re ravin’, Saloo.”
“No lavin, Multa. You heal lass night the malee? All night longee he cly wail.”
“Hear the malee. What’s that?”
“Biggee fowl like tulkey. Saloo heal him. Make moan likee man go die.”
“Och, thair was that, thrue enough. I heerd something scramin’ all the night. I thought it might be a banshee, if thair is that crayther in this counthry. A bird, you say? What of that? Its squalling won’t give us any iggs, nor lade to its nest nayther.”
“Ness not belly fal way. Malee make ness in sand close to sea-shole. Mollow mornin’ I go lookee, maybe findee.”