“And you, sir; how is it you have not grown tired of it? If I have been correctly informed—your friend, Mr Stump, is my authority—you’ve been leading this life for several years. Is it so?”
“Quite true: I have no other calling.”
“Indeed! I wish I could say the same. I envy you your lot. I’m sure I could enjoy existence amid these beautiful scene for ever and ever!”
“Alone? Without companions? Without even a roof to shelter you?”
“I did not say that. But, you’ve not told me. How do you live? Have you a house?”
“It does not deserve such a high-sounding appellation,” laughingly replied the mustanger. “Shed would more correctly serve for the description of my jacalé, which may be classed among the lowliest in the land.”
“Where is it? Anywhere near where we’ve been to-day?”
“It is not very far from where we are now. A mile, perhaps. You see those tree-tops to the west? They shade my hovel from the sun, and shelter it from the storm.”
“Indeed! How I should like to have a look at it! A real rude hut, you say?”
“In that I have but spoken the truth.”