On this being translated Ebony hoped that the black man was included in the white, and Mark asked if the hunting-ground was far-off.
“A long way,” said the chief, “we shan’t reach it till night. But that’s no matter, for night is our time to hunt.”
He said this with a twinkle in his eye, for he saw well enough that his guests were impatient to be gone.
“But,” continued he, on observing that they did not seem cheered by the prospect, “our road to the hunting-plain lies on your way to Antananarivo, so you won’t lose time.”
As he spoke he opened a small box containing a brown sort of dust, of which he put as much as he possibly could between the teeth of his lower jaw and the lip.
“What in all the world is he doin’?” asked Hockins of the guide in a low tone.
“He is taking snuff.”
“I always s’posed,” remarked Ebony, “dat snuff was tooken by de nose!”
“So it is, they tell me, in England; but we have a different fashion here, as you see, and quite as foolish.”
“You don’t mean that it’s tobacco he treats in that way?” exclaimed Mark.