"Then, we are alive, and not so hungry, and in a camp of pre-historic men?" asked Smith.
"I dunno about prestoric, but we're in a camp of jumped-up white savages that talk English," said the Baker.
Smith rose.
"Look, here, Baker, draw it mild!"
"I tell you they talks English just as good as you or me, though sometimes they shoves in a word I don't savvy," said the Baker. "And what's more, everything they 'ave is solid gold—jugs and pots and clubs and h'everything. And they thinks no more of it than you or I would of a bally old iron camp oven."
And to convince Smith of that, he went to the outside of a hut and brought back a hammered-out basin, which must have weighed eight pounds at least.
"Is this my luck?" said Smith. But he could believe nothing till a girl came out into the dawn. "Do you mean she talks English?" asked Smith.
"That's what I mean," said the Baker stubbornly.
And Smith called to the girl, who came nearer, somewhat in the manner of a shy and curious filly.
"Are you English?" said Smith.