“Hold ’oos tongue,” said Flatnose (so Antonio named him); “tongue too long—far!”
“Boh! ’oos brains too short,” retorted Frizzyhead contemptuously.
An immense amount of chattering by the others followed these pithy remarks of the principals.
The question in debate was, Whether the two toes of the ostrich represented the thumb and forefinger in man, or the little and ring fingers? But in a few minutes the subject changed gradually, and somehow unaccountably, to questions of a political nature,—for, strange to say, in savage Africa, as in civilised England, politics are keenly discussed, doubtless at times with equal wisdom in the one land as in the other.
“What dat ’oo say?” inquired Flatnose, on hearing some muttered remarks of Frizzyhead in reference to the misgovernment of chiefs. Of course there, as here, present company was understood to be excepted.
“Chiefs ob no use—no use at all!” said Frizzyhead so vehemently that the men at several of the nearest fires ceased to talk, and began to listen.
“Ob no use?” cried Flatnose, with vehemence so superior that the attention of the whole camp was arrested.
“No!” replied Frizzyhead, still more energetically, “ob no use at all. We could govern ourselves betterer, so what de use of ’um? The chief ’ums fat an’ hab plenty wife, but we, who do all de hard work, hab hunger, an’ only one wife, prehaps none at all. Dis is bad, unjust, wrong.”
There was a general shout of “eehee!” from all quarters, which was equivalent to our “hear, hear.”
“’Oo know noting at all,” retorted Flatnose, who was a loyal subject. “Is not de chief de fader of de peepil? Can dere be peepil widout a fader—eh? God made de chief—who says dat chief is not wise? He is wise, but um’s child’n am big fools!”