"What bosh!" remarked our guide.
"It is the truth," said I, "and whether you believe it or not it makes no difference to us, so you had better jump into our boat while you have the chance."
"I fancy you've hit on the right thing," returned the guard. "I don't believe a word you say, but these idiots do, so I can do nothing now but follow and let you lead."
This conversation was carried on openly.
"The coke's comin' off your face," said the Skipper. "Hadn't you better go out and put some more on?"
"It isn't coke," said the guard. "It is really a dye that I know of, to be found under the bark of a tree; but I do rub coke over it, and I'll just go into the kitchen, if I can, before they begin to cook the supper and repair damages."
My soul turned sick at his reference, but I felt that there must be some way of our getting free before that last awful rite began.
"Am I much lighter?" asked our guide.
"Not much," said the Skipper, "but if I was you I'd fix up a little."
The guide turned to the priest and priestess, who were awaiting with curious looks the result of our conversation.