“No, never, ye leather-jawed kangaroo, but I’ve no objections to do the drum on yer skull, with this for a drumstick!” He flourished his club as he spoke, and Bunco, bounding away with a laugh, led the party back on their track for a few paces, then, turning sharp to the right, he conducted them into a narrow opening in the thicket, and proceeded in a zig-zag manner that utterly confused poor Muggins, inducing him from that hour to resign himself with blind faith to the guidance of his conqueror. Well would it be for humanity in general, and for rulers in particular, if there were more of Muggins’s spirit abroad inducing men to give in and resign cheerfully when beaten fairly!
If the sailors were disappointed at not meeting with any wild creatures during the first part of their walk, they were more than compensated by the experiences of the afternoon. While they were walking quietly along, several snakes—some of considerable length—wriggled out of their path, and Larry trod on one which twirled round his foot, causing him to leap off the ground like a grasshopper and utter a yell, compared to which all his previous shoutings were like soft music. Bunco calmed his fears, however, and comforted the party by saying that these snakes were harmless. Nevertheless, they felt a strong sensation of aversion to the reptiles, which it was not easy to overcome, and Muggins began to think seriously that being lost in the forest was, after all, a pleasure mingled considerably with alloy! Not long after the incident of the snake, strange sounds were heard from time to time in the bushes, and all the party, except Bunco, began to glance uneasily from side to side, and grasped their weapons firmly. Suddenly a frightful-looking face was observed by Larry peeping through the bushes right over Muggins’s unconscious head. The horrified Irishman, who thought it was no other than a visitant from the world of fiends, was going to utter a shout of warning, when a long hairy arm was stretched out from the bushes and Muggins’s hat was snatched from his head.
“Och! ye spalpeen,” cried Larry, hurling his cudgel at the ugly creature.
The weapon was truly aimed; it hit the monkey on the back, causing it to drop the hat and vanish from the spot—shrieking.
“Well done, Larry!” cried Will Osten; “why didn’t you warn us to expect visits from such brutes, Bunco?”
“Why, cause me tink you know all ’bout ’im. Hab larn ’im from Jo Gruffy.”
“From who?”
“From Jo Gruffy. Him as you was say, last night, do tell all ’bout de countries ob de world, and wot sort of treeses an’ hanimals in ’im. Der be plenty ob dem hanimals—(how you call ’im, mongkees?) in Peroo, big an leetil.”
“Well!” exclaimed our hero with a laugh, “possibly geography may refer to the fact; if so, I had forgotten it, but I’m sorry to hear that they are numerous, for they are much too bold to be pleasant companions.”
“Dey do us no harm,” said Bunco, grinning, “only chok full ob fun!”