“Well, goot Shakra! you hash news for me?” interrogated the Jew, taking the initiative in the conversation. “You hash been in the direction of Savanna? Ish all right on the road?”
“Whugh!” vociferated the myal-man, throwing out his breast and jerking up his shoulders with an air of triumphant importance. “All right, eh? Well, not azzackly on de road, but by de side ob daat same, dar lie a corp’, wich by dis time oughter be as cold as de heart ob a water-millyum, an’ ’tiff as—’tiff as—as—de ’keleton ob ole Chakra. Ha! ha! ha!”
And the speaker uttered a peal of fierce laughter at the simile he had had so much difficulty in conceiving; but which, when found, recalled the sweet triumph of his vengeance.
“Blesh my soul! Then it ish all over?”
“Daat’s all ober—Ise be boun’.”
“And the shpell did it? There wash no need—”
With a start the Jew paused in his speech, as if about to say something he had not intended; and which had been very near escaping him.
“There wash no need—no need for you to haf gone after?”
This was evidently not the question originally upon his tongue.
“No need!” repeated Chakra, a little puzzled at the interrogatory; “no need, so far as dat war consarned. Ob coos de ’pell did de work, as a knowd it wud, an’ jess as a told you it wud. ’Twan’t fo’ dat a went arter, but a puppos ob my own. Who tole ye, Massr Jake, dat I wor gone arter?”